Never Again: Decima
by Smizzlemort
Summary: The ancient struggle between the chains of the old world and the unadulterated free will of the new has come to rise, and the reluctant Elsa Muller finds herself stuck right in the middle. Death and betrayal sees her old life completely destroyed, and an entirely new one is written into her flesh, irrevocably intertwining her path with both friends and enemies alike.
1. Arrival

**Disclaimer; I don't any of the original characters of the X-Men franchse. Just Elsa, Tobias, Marie and John. **

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

-Arrival-

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><p>'<em>From today and from this place there begins a new epoch in the history of the world.'-Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<em>

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><p>New York city. Where dreams are made and more often shattered. Late 1961 and things were going nowhere but up. A bright city that shed both inspiration and danger. Purity and grit.<p>

It was eight o'clock in the evening, but there was still considerable light.

Lights flashing, fluorescent signs beaming their various images and messages, families hustling about struggling to finish up their Christmas shopping. Bright, busy and not stopping for anyone.

Standing at the taxi depot, she felt insignificant. A tiny blimp in a big bustling city where families would get together and celebrate the festivities, whilst everyone else had to make do.

Her luggage was at her feet, her coat wrapped tightly around her slender figure. It was not cold enough to slug on a thermal Santa suit, but enough to completely cover up.

She tugged at her scarf and watched out for the sky blue Ford Country Squire, which she had been informed would be her pick up vehicle. Amongst the zooming blur of yellow taxis and primarily black cars, the Squire should have been easy to spot.

Not so.

Amongst the grey tones of the sky above her, and the even duller hues of her surroundings, seeking something so pale in shade was quite difficult.

She began to give up, wondering if her uncle was ever going to turn up.

Had he forgotten?

No. No, he can't have.

After all, it was he in the first place who had suggested her re-location. He had organized everything.

She had done her part, flown over three thousand miles, across the pond and beyond. She could only hope he had not changed his mind. That he had not been convinced otherwise.

For a brief moment, she looked back to the interior of the terminal.

It gave the impression of warmth with its yellow lighting and closed glass windows and because of this, she was seriously considering going back in.

The entire airport had been decorated with every Christmas decoration known to man; Christmas trees, oversized baubles, tinsel. No available surface had been left untouched from the craze of the holiday season, nothing was left looking dull and out of spirit.

There was even the occasional taxidermied reindeer.

She chuckled bitterly.

That creature, now so still and lifeless had once lived. It had once leapt into the air, filled its lungs with the scent of winter and lived on the land, grazing and raising their young.

Now, it stood statue still, glazed in the middle of an airport, miles away from any wilderness whatsoever, as humans passed and pointed.

Perhaps that would happen to her some day?

Perhaps they would capture her too, sedate her, slaughter her, her internal organs gone and replaced with stuffing and sawdust and maybe they'd hang her on a wall somewhere in her mutant state or in a glass cabinet in a museum somewhere.

'_Here,'_ the curator would explain to the school children, _'Here we have one the most despised creatures Man has ever come across; the mutant. This one had called herself Elsa Muller, a feeble attempt at normalizing herself one might add, but we know her to be nothing but mutant scum.' _The children would smile, laugh and applaud their adults, at what a good job they had done, ridding their world of such evils.

Elsa chuckled. _That_ was a far more probable fate than the one her Uncle had planned for her. A plan that entailed returning to school in a foreign country, graduating, receiving a PhD, finding a job, perhaps a partner and lots of children, all the while blending with a society who did not want her.

All of that seemed farfetched and intangible. In comparison to being captured and slaughtered anyway.

Her eyes still upon the creature, the reindeer slowly faded, fading into nothing. It dissolved into the walls, any indication of its former presence now gone.

From the disappearance, black fuzzy figures emerged. The edges were blurred, shapeless blobs that looked rather demonic. At first, it was puzzling and she was wondering whether she was losing her mind.

But it slowly, and rather painfully, dawned on her.

A family; a man, a woman, three boys and a girl.

All dark haired and doe eyed.

All smiling.

All happy.

All beautiful.

Each member sported their distinctive features, the mutations that defined them. Mutations that should have been a gift, but looking in retrospect, had been more of a curse.

She heard a car approaching and turned back, wiping away tears. Spluttering and spurting out fumes, she smiled as she saw the Country Squire chugging, lagging behind a taxi.

She picked up her luggage and prepared herself.

The vehicle parked up beside the pick up area, creating a rather horrid noise as it halted.

Plump, round and a little red, Tobias Muller certainly looked a little worse for wear from the last time she had seen him.

He slammed his door, cursing under his breath at the inefficiencies of his vehicle.

He was still scowling, even as he came round.

But his expression soon turned soft, broken from its hard lines as he saw his niece.

Overwhelmed with relief, he broke into a jog and spread out his arms. "Elsa!"

Elsa responded immediately, taking her overweight uncle into her arms.

That proved to be a little troublesome, her arms barely fitting around him.

He was still just as tall, still as built and sturdy, but he had been much slimmer when he had lived in England.

She blamed the American culture.

Still holding her to him, he repeated over and over again; "Elsa! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…"

She held onto him as tightly as she could.

She didn't want to let go, she didn't want anything anymore.

She didn't realize it, but she was crying too. The exhaustion and certainly the reality of the past week hadn't truly sunk in until now. Everything that had been pent up inside of her was now bursting to escape the fiery internal inferno of its confines.

They pulled apart and Tobias took her face in his hands. "Elsa…thank God."

He smiled through his tears and whispered, "Look at you. Look at you,"

"There's not much to look at," she sobbed.

"You were just a child last time I saw you," he said, stroking her hair.

Elsa laughed. "You were a lot slimmer,"

"Yes I was," Tobias chuckled, as he slapped his beer gut, "The wife's cooking I'm afraid. Not that I'm complaining."

The two chuckled as they stood there in each other's arms.

What had been a brief moment of joy, turned blue and solemn as Elsa snapped back into reality. Coming to senses of her situation, as she slowly began to close back into herself.

Seeing his niece's face fall, Tobias kissed Elsa upon her forehead and motioned to his Squire.

"Come on, let's get home."

The journey had been a quiet one. Neither of them spoke, both lost in their own thoughts. Tobias had not had time to grieve for his brother and family; he had had to be quick.

As soon as he heard from Elsa, that desperate phone call in the middle of the night, he had done everything in his power to bring her to the United States.

Away from there.

She was the only family he had left now and he needed to keep her safe.

Without knowing it, tears began to well up in his eyes.

He wiped them away with an age old hanky, as they waited for the lights to turn green.

"I'm sorry," muttered Tobias, "I just-"

"It's alright, Uncle," Elsa muttered, "He was your brother after all,"

"And your father,"

Elsa sighed.

She needed to change the topic. If she allowed him to drive in such a state, he'd probably kill them both and all of this would have been for nothing.

"Where is Marie by the way? I thought she would have come with you."

Tobias lit up; the topic of his wife always brought him great joy. "Oh she's at home. Sprucing it up to welcome you. And she's cooking dinner and everything and-ahem."

"Oh,"

Tobias turned to Elsa, seeing that she was staring out the window, her eyes unmoving in her reflection.

"How…how are you?"

"I don't know," she whispered. Her shoulders shrugged pathetically, as if even that minute action caused her great fatigue.

"It's lucky we got you out when we did," he blurted, "Another day or so and they'd be onto you,"

"I know,"

Tobias placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm just glad I got you out,"

"I know,"

The car turned into Dome Street and then into Leakey Crescent. A typical suburban street, with typical houses with typical roofs and typical driveways parked with typical cars.

Even Tobias' home had not broken from the typical scenery. A large, double storey home with wide windows and Christmas lights hanging from the gutters.

Just like in the pictures.

Elsa could see that Marie was sitting on the porch, rocking back and forth on an old rocking chair. As soon as she saw the car pull up, she got up from her seat and rushed forward with her arms open.

Elsa had barely gotten out of the Squire when Marie latched onto her.

"Elsa! Oh my goodness, thank the Lord you're alright," she cried in her New Jersey drawl, "Oh, let me see you! You look so much like your moth…" Marie stopped, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't…""

Tobias attempted to save the situation. "Marie, darling, why don't you take Elsa's things inside and I'll show her in?"

"Of course," gushed Marie, as she unlocked the boot, "You won't hear a peep from me."

"Sorry about that," laughed Tobias, as soon as they headed inside, "She's got her heart in the right place."

"It's alright," said Elsa quietly, slipping off her coat.

"Come on,"

Tobias led her upstairs, to the second floor, to the door on the right. She had not stepped foot inside her new room yet, but Elsa could see that Marie had attended to decorating it.

An elaborate wooden panel hung on her door. Stuck on it where the wooden letters E-L-S-A, which were surrounded by hand painted flowers and fruits.

It was a lovely gesture, though Elsa was a little old for such things.

"Yes," began Tobias slowly, "Marie insisted on doing that. I hope you don't mind,"

"No of course not," smiled Elsa. Nodding, Tobias placed his hand on the wood of the door and pushed it open.

What greeted her was not exactly what Elsa had expected. Her room had been painted a bright apricot. A large, pretty wooden desk occupied one wall, a single bed occupied the other. The bed itself had been adorned with various toy animals and dolls, wire butterflies hanging from the window.

It was a stark contrast to her old room; filled with souvenirs from her trips around the world rather than teddy bears and butterflies.

Even if she had butterflies, they would have been the dead and preserved kind. Not mass produced, plastic ones.

"I told her not to," explained Tobias, "I told her you were too old for such things. But…you see, never having any children of her own took a toll on her. She practically planned out your future on a billboard when I said I was bring you here."

Elsa laughed as she ran her fingers along the desk. "No, I understand. I'll be glad to be the daughter she never had."

"Thank you," Tobias cleared his throat, "Well, um, I'll leave you to it. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour."

Tobias made to leave, before Elsa's voice stopped him.

"Thank you, Uncle. For everything,"

Tobias smiled as he closed the door behind him. As soon as he did, Elsa felt sick. Sick to the stomach. Her head began to spin a little. She slipped off her jumper and threw across the floor. Following that came her cardigan, her shirt and her skirt, until she was standing in nothing but her singlet and underwear.

She ran through to the ensuite bathroom she had noticed on the way in and collapsed beside the toilet. Resting her hands on the seat, she heaved the contents of her stomach until she sure that one more heave would take out every organ in her body.

She slowly rose to her feet, almost stumbling sideways. She steadied herself on the bathroom sink and with much effort, turned on both the HOT and COLD taps. The sound of gushing water comforted her as she washed her face clean of her pain. Coughing, she looked up into the mirror.

She was not necessarily happy with what she saw. Her black hair had turned brittle and dry, pinned up with about a million bobby pins in a style that her mother could have pulled off with a stitch. Her pale skin was waxy and almost yellowing in hue, her lips curled back. The whites that surrounding her dark iris' were bloodshot and veined in appearance.

Any semblance of beauty was now gone and only replaced with misery and pain. Still clutching the sides of the sink, she began to weep. The last several days had been hellish and in all honesty, nothing had truly sunk in.

She sobbed uncontrollably, her shoulders quivering. The pain in her heart became physically excruciating. She struggled to breathe as she wiped away her tears.

Sinking to the floor, she wailed silently, making sure that she released every tear in her body. Never again would she allow herself to feel pain, to love, to cry. Never again would she put herself in such a place.

The three Mullers sat at the dining table, quietly eating the food Marie had so laboriously prepared. Chicken, potatoes, peas, carrots and beans.

They ate in silence, the only sound of their existence was the clattering of their forks upon their plates. Eager to break the silence, Tobias spoke.

"So, uh, I organized it with the Principal. It's the Christmas holidays right now, so you'll be starting up school again when the rest of the kids do. Settle in at the beginning you know?"

"Great," muttered Elsa, shoving her mouth with peas so she wasn't available for conversation.

"I know how much you've been through," sympathized Marie, "but we need to normalize quickly. We can't rouse any suspicion. They may be still looking for you-"

Elsa looked to Marie. "Of course,"

Marie was a slender middle aged woman. If she didn't look so tired all the time, Elsa would have called her attractive. Blond haired and blue eyed, lips pink with bright lipstick she very much resembled a doll. She and Tobias had met whilst he had been studying as an exchange student at Yale University. A PhD in genetics. Marie had been working at the university as an assistant to one of the professors. Her occupation had been menial, but her pretty frame had been enough to catch Tobias' eye.

Perhaps if she had seen them in their college days, Elsa might have understood why they had gotten together but as it was, Elsa didn't like Marie so much. She couldn't understand the appeal.

"It won't take long to adjust," continued Tobias, "You'll find the American system is quite similar to the English one. I know you were about to take your A-levels, but I think you'll find this year will be quite exciting-"

Elsa couldn't take it anymore. All this talk. She needed to rest. To sleep.

"May I be excused?" she asked abruptly, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Well…of course," stuttered Marie, "What's wrong sweetie? Is the food? Is it school? I understand you might be feelin' completely nervous about the whole thing."

Elsa couldn't help it. Her sarcasm rolled off her like waves. "I'm sorry. I know I should be concentrating on school and getting all the pencils I need and uniforms and making new friends. But," she let out a dry chuckle, "huh, I just can't get the image of blood and mutilation out of my head. Crazy huh?"

Her uncle and aunt sat in silence. With a few simple words, Elsa had managed to turn a quiet family dinner into an awkward and uncomfortable gathering. Tobias placed his fork upon his plate and sighed. Marie looked like she was on the verge of tears, but Elsa didn't have the time or patience to comfort her.

Pushing her chair out, she got up and left the dining room, muttering "Excuse me," along the way.

She had only just reached the foot of the stairs when Tobias came after. Elsa ignored him, but Tobias was not having any of that. He took her elbow and swung her round.

"Elsa," he said sternly, "We're trying. Ok? We're really trying-"

She pulled her arm out of his grip. "Then try not to pile all of this on me." She waved her hands manically in the air when she said 'this'.

Tobias placed his hands on his hips. "All of 'this'? And what exactly is this?"

Elsa sighed. She didn't know what she meant. Half the things she had said hadn't really made sense. It was like she had a jumble of words struggling to leave her mouth and once they had, they had struggled to arrange themselves properly.

"I know how much you've done for me," she said quietly, "I know how much the both of you are sacrificing to keep me here…but I lost _everything_. In a single night. Forgive me if I'm still a little lost."

Tobias sat down on the foot of the steps, running his hands through his hair. "I can't imagine what it would have been like for you, seeing all of that. But remember, when you lost your family…I lost my family too. You're not the only one suffering here. If I could, I'd take it all from you. Your suffering, your pain, but I can't. You can't change what's past, only the future. A future I hope you'll be able to build here."

Elsa sat beside her uncle. "It's the same all over Uncle. They don't like people like me, they think we're dangerous."

Tobias leaned back and smiled, glad that their argument had calmed down. He cracked a grin. "Well, maybe you should prove them wrong."


	2. Chance Meetings

Chapter 2

-Chance Meetings-

Dense, dark clouds rolled over New York, pushing out the last of the soft winter rays which had presided over the city. The snow which coated the pavements and slicked the roadways shone in the glow of flickering street lights and half-lit convenience stores. The growing darkness did not stop the night-life, nor did it quell the enthusiasm.

The food markets of New York seemed to take on an entirely different personality at night; whilst the fast-paced atmosphere remained, it seemed far more pronounced. The air was thicker, the sounds were louder and the smells were stronger.

They were, altogether, not markedly different to ones found in London, and Elsa was thankful for the semblance. Crammed under large over-arching shelters and spilling out into the streets, they were filled with rows upon rows of various goods and all sold by grown men screaming and screeching.

Marie had dragged Elsa through every market in downtown New York, searching high and low for absurd foodstuffs, before they made their final stop at the fish markets. It was not one of the big ones like the Fulton Fish Market, but a market nonetheless.

Elsa noted that tuna seemed to be the popular item. All sporting meaty blue-grey bodies and bulbous eyes, upturned mouths frozen in a last gasp of surprise. She spotted a few mangled octopuses, accompanied by dirty buckets of mussels, clams and squids.

But it was not the cephalopods which intrigued Elsa; beside the tuna lay other types of various marine dwellers. Most Elsa had seen before; dinner staples such trout and snapper. But then shoved to the front and decorated with sprigs of parsley, were those so different, so intriguing and rare that Elsa found herself staring. Flatheads, irregular body shapes, elongated fangs and luminescent scales. They were like another race, another breed of fish entirely separate to the mainstream, commercially exploited ones.

They were a kind that came at a high price and only appreciated by a few. Feared for their unusual and unsightly appearance, but favoured for their unusual and rare flavour.

But whether it was tuna or snapper or a blue whale, it all smelt the same to her; laden with salt and heavy on the nose.

"I cannot _believe_ I left it this long!" cackled Marie. Like many other New York citizens, Marie had left her Christmas shopping until the very last minute. The gifts she had managed to place on hold well before Christmas. The food, however, had been left for that final mad dash battle which Christmas shoppers seemed to enjoy so much.

Eager for Elsa to absorb her new home as much as possible, Marie had dragged Elsa into to every market, every back alley and every store on every bloody corner. New York was an interesting place and under different circumstances, Elsa would have lapped up the experience. But life had been turned on its head, and Elsa had been left stranded; she couldn't care less for cultural exchanges.

Marie was seemingly absorbed in her own activities and had not noticed Elsa's distrait manner. She chatted animatedly about which fish was the healthiest, which came from which ocean which thereby determined the quality of it, which ones spawned the most and which ones would impress a prospective lover.

Elsa had no interest in fish or its apparent multitude of benefits; her mind was elsewhere.

"What do you think Elsa?" asked Marie, pointing at a large snapper. Her finger hovered over it for a moment, before shifting a razor-like nail to a fish on the left.

"This one or that one?" she asked absently, staring at a small, comparatively sickly one. "Tobias doesn't eat fish all that much, and you, well, you hardly touch your food and _I_ have to keep care of my own figure. The doctor told Tobias that fish is _so _much better for his health than plain red meat, which I personally think is absolute bullshit. Meat is meat you know? What difference does it make, where it came from? I mean, I'm pretty sure that New Yorkers and Texans taste the same. Only difference is how much farmland they've been exposed to, you know what I mean? But seeing that they're both for the same price I think the bigger one will be more value for money, don't you think? And I just don't..."

Elsa had drifted off, her aunt's pointless rambling providing adequate incentive to do so. She could hear everything so clearly, incredibly loud and incredibly close. She pushed her head back, staring up at the world above.

"...Elsa?"

Elsa shook her head, snapping out of her daze. "What?"

"The fish, silly." smiled Marie. "Whaddya think?"

Elsa looked to the stack of fish and looked back at Marie, feeling the colour rising in her cheeks.

"Yes."

"N-no, honey." laughed Marie. "Which one should I get?"

"I don't know. They all look-"

"What will it be ma'am?" asked the gruff keeper, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I haven't got all night."

Before Marie was able to get a word in, Elsa tucked her hands into her pockets and turned to her aunt. "Would it be alright if I took a look around?"

Marie smiled and began to ruffle her purse. "Of course, Elsa, just two seconds and I'll-"

"By myself?"

Marie frowned. "But what if you-"

"I'll be fine. I'll be fifteen minutes, I promise."

After a moment, Marie smiled her toothiest smile and gently slapped Elsa on the shoulder. "Alright. Get on with ya."

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><p>The further she delved into the streets of New York, the more Elsa came to appreciate it. The way the smells drifted into her nose, the way the breeze flitted through her hair and the way the sounds tickled her ear was surprisingly comforting.<p>

The high rise buildings fascinated her the most. Imposing structures of concrete and steel, ascending so high it almost blocked out the sky.

Elsa was uncomfortably aware that she had been gone for more than fifteen minutes and perhaps Marie was sitting on some street corner and worried out of her mind, but for some reason it hardly concerned Elsa. It was clear that she was becoming a little lost, but being lost was fast becoming second nature to her.

She passed the open windows of a small, worn little diner. As she stared in, she caught her reflection in the glass and sighed. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, and her lips dry and a slightly cracked. She hadn't really given much thought to her appearance before, but wandering through a foreign land had changed all that. All of a sudden she-

"Excuse me?"

Elsa spun round.

A tall, slightly chubby middle aged man stood before her. His large frame glasses were a tad askew and his hair had taken a clear beating from the harsh winds, but the wide grin on his face was genuine. Behind him stood a woman and three children; two girls and a boy.

"Sorry to disturb you." He said, gesturing to his family, "But you wouldn't mind taking a picture of us, would you?"

"Oh." smiled Elsa, nodding her head. "Of course."

Grinning, he passed a small Kodak Brownie into Elsa's hands and quickly ushered his family into position.

"We hardly come out to the city, see." the man explained, straightening his children's shirts and smoothing the hair upon their now beanie-less heads. He looked up at Elsa. "You understand."

Elsa smiled.

It took a moment, but when she sensed that they were ready, Elsa held the camera to her face and peered through the small window.

It took a while for her to actually take the picture; the family looked awfully nice. The man stood strong and steady, a grin on his face, his arm around his wife. The woman appeared a little strained, as though the city life was a little daunting on her but nonetheless, she remained calm and pretty in poise. The two girls seemed to be a couple of years apart; the boy was definitely the youngest. He, out of the entire family, as he looked the most out of place. His pale, gaunt skin gave him an almost sickly appearance. His dark hair, almost black, in amongst his family's array of blond and brown, emphasised yet again his inconsistency.

He was flipping a small turtle dove in his hand, running his slender fingers over and over again along its fat bady.

Slowly looking up, a shy smile formed on his lips.

Without any further hesitation, Elsa pushed down her finger upon the shutter button.

She couldn't possibly tell how the picture would turn out, but she could only hope that she hadn't completely screwed it up. She wondered with amusement if one day they'd invent cameras that allowed for pictures to be viewed as they were taken. Elsa didn't suppose she'd live long enough to see that happen.

Elsa held the camera in her hands and slowly lifted her gaze to the man, carefully handing it back to him.

"You have a very beautiful family." She said quietly.

"Oh thank you!" the man gushed. He motioned to his family and held up his camera. "Thank you for that. Merry Christmas,"

"Happy Christmas."Elsa returned. She smiled as much as she could as the family passed her, each offering their season's greetings. The dark haired boy remained where he was, his gaze upon her unwavering.

He edged forward. Carefully, he placed the turtle dove within her fingers.

"Oh, this is yours." stuttered Elsa. "I can't take..."

The boy shook his head, smiling.

"Keep it_._"

"Why?"

The boy scratched his forehead and looked to his feet. He seemed as though he wanted to say something, back tracking as to say it or not. Finally, his lips moved but it came out in a whisper.

"Because you're not alone."

Elsa furrowed her brow, a smile forming though considerably puzzled. The boy giggled and shrugged.

"Merry Christmas." he said.

"Merry Christmas." responded Elsa.

They shared a final smile before he too disappeared into the Christmas blur, joining up with his family and becoming another face in the crowd.

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><p>Her encounter with the young family had rendered Elsa wandering the streets of New York with absolutely no purpose. They reminded her so much of her own family, exempting the fact that she had had two brothers, instead of two sisters. The light-hearted assertive father and the quiet and collected mother, who brought about strong memories of her own parents.<p>

But it was her thoughts of the dark-haired boy that controlled her mind, keeping it occupied whilst her feet took her where they deemed fit. She could have read their minds, delved into their deepest thoughts and examined their darkest desires if she had really wanted to. She could have seen who they really were. But violating someone in such a way seemed so inappropriate given all that had happened.

She stopped at a corner, and looked up at the sky. Darkness had taken full hold over the city, its black slickened fingers settling into every cranny and every crevice. Street lamps flickered repeatedly, poor imitations of the twinkling stars above.

Elsa had never been able to appreciate stars, in the way so many others did. Some likened them to the definitive nature of life, of dreams, some wrote poetry. To her, they were just balls of gas; if people wanted to see moving gas, they'd find it much easier to go see her cousin Lucian after a full meal of beans and onions.

Beans and onions. The mere thought of it made Elsa's stomach growl with an intensity she had never known. She tapped her feet absently, eyeing a small pub tucked into a street corner. Elsa pulled out her tattered purse and examined the contents.

Eighty dollars.

She _was_ getting a little hungry; her stomach had just told her so. Elsa tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear and licked her lips. She was out already, she may as well have a drink whilst she was at it.

Tucking her purse back into the deep pocket of her coat, she made for the pub.

Elsa was immediately hit with the strong stench of cigarettes and alcohol, of grown burly men and late night troubles. The taverns in Banbury were no different and her mother had been a smoker so the smell was not alien, but this was something else.

Her mother...

Elsa shook her head. She needed to push them out of her head; she needed to re-adjust.

The bar table was sparse, save for one brawny man sitting smack bam in the middle. She plopped herself beside him and wiggled about, making herself comfortable. The man did not seem the friendly type, but then again impressions were often entirely wrong. His thin shirt did justice to his heavily built figure, toned muscles bristling beneath it. A long sharp nose jutted out of his face, emphasising his strong jaw line. His brown hair slicked into two long rows and the fuzzy sideburns that ran to his chin gave him the look of someone weathered and beaten. It gave him an almost animal quality.

A young man stood behind the table, polishing a glass mug. He smiled at Elsa as she looked up. He was handsome, Elsa would admit that. And he seemed a little interested but she didn't come to New York to find love.

_That _she would never do again.

"Root beer, thank you." She informed him, bashfully avoiding his gaze.

"Coming right up." The tender smiled gamely. "You're not from around here?"

"No. I just moved."

The bar tender gave her the once over. "I like a new girl."

Elsa didn't know what to say, more than slightly taken aback. Before she could get a word in the bar tender left, smiling and swinging his cloth over his shoulder.

"_Root beer?_ What do you think this is; prom?"

For a second Elsa thought the bar tender had magically reappeared, until she realised it was the burly man sitting beside her.

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "You're a little old for that, aren't you?"

He furrowed his brow, his features coming to a point. He shrugged, "Whatever. Get off my table."

"Excuse me?"

" 'Excuse me'. " He mocked, grinned wickedly. "I said, get off my table."

Elsa placed her elbow upon the table, resting her head on the heel of her palm. "I'm sorry, _your_ table?"

"Yeah. _My_ table,"

His voice was deep and his tone was sure. He had the air of someone who didn't like being told what to do. And got his way no matter what.

"And what defines this as your table?" Elsa humoured.

"I come in here every day." He explained, tapping the bench. "Every knows that I sit here and I alone. When I leave, you're free to it."

"I'm not staying for long. I think I'll stay."

"You've got some nerve. Where're you from?"

"England."

"I thought as much." He chuckled dryly. "Only an Englishman would have the nerve to take on someone three times their size,"

"English_woman_." corrected Elsa."But I don't think that's true. I think we quite enjoy minding our own business."

"What do you call this?" he exclaimed, motioning between the two of them. His mouth was half open, his brow set in a curious 'S' shape.

"A free country." Elsa shrugged.

"Why so far away from home?" he asked, his tone drenched in suspicion. "Why aren't you riding ponies to school and calling everyone 'cricket'?"

"It's complicated." Elsa muttered quietly.

"So you're staying?"

"Yes."

"God help us all." he muttered. He took a long swig of his drink, draining the very last of its contents. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

"It's the holidays."

"I forgot."

"Yes, it looks like you haven't been to school in ages."'

He chuckled, his arm flinching. "And to think we were just getting along,"

Crossing her legs, Elsa decided to grill him. Not only was his mind difficult to penetrate but also what she could see was nothing less than fleeting memories; quick, sharp, and hard to grasp. "What about you then? Are you from these parts?"

"I was born in Alberta."

"So, Canada?"

"Yes thank you, smart ass."

"_Arse_."

"_Ass_." He unnecessarily emphasised. "You're in the States now honey,"

"So, why are _you_ so far away from home?" she asked, smiling. "Unless..._this_ is your home?"

"It's complicated." he muttered quietly, taking a sip of his drink.

Elsa smiled quietly to herself. Whatever this man had been through, it was nothing less than extraordinary. And that was not necessarily a positive thing.

"Yes it is."

"And who are you, to say so?"

Elsa smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Intuition."

She looked around. She supposed, if she came in everyday, this place did have a certain cosiness to it. The bar tender reappeared, smiling as he passed Elsa her drink before sauntering away. She took out the small piece of paper that was tucked beneath it, and frowned when she realised it was his number.

Eager to distract herself, and show the eager young man disinterest, Elsa looked around. She noticed the small clock wall and felt her stomach drop.

Eight-thirty.

She had been gone for five hours.

"Oh, I should be going." Elsa whispered to herself, shifting from her seat.

"Fine with me."

She fixed herself, tugging at her hair and straightened her clothes.

The man looked her over. "You're not half bad, you know,"

"I'm a little young for you I think," smirked Elsa.

"I didn't mean it like that." He growled, though his smile betrayed him. "I mean, you're not just some snooty English kid are you?"

Elsa smiled. "It was nice meeting you."

He nodded. "My pleasure." He held out his hand, which Elsa happily shook. Though she felt bad for it, she instantly made a mental note to wash her hands when she got home.

As she reached for the door, the man called after her. "Hey! What about your root beer?"

She walked back, pulled out her purse and handed him twenty dollars. "You have it."

His cigarette precariously hanging from his mouth, he took a little while to comprehend what she had just said. Elsa shook her head as she headed to the door once more.

Once again, she had reached the door and once again he called her. "NO! You think I wanna drink that high school shit? Hey! Don't you walk-"

Elsa opened the door, the twinkling of the overhead bell filling her ears. "I hope to see you again, Logan."

She stepped back out into the streets, filling her lungs with the city air. She hadn't meant to leave him like that, but he had been such arse it only seemed appropriate. She supposed she'd never see him again, but then, the world was a very strange thing.

That was twice this night; twice she had met a mutant.

She pulled out the turtledove the boy had given her. It was a pretty little thing, white and solid, a tiny green stick in its mouth. The wings almost looked real, meticulously carved and crafted.

Elsa looked to the street she had taken. She didn't think that Marie would still be waiting for her, most likely she had gone home. She was in deep trouble that was for sure. Tobias had probably called the police.

Refusing to let the panic set, Elsa held out a hand. "Taxi!"

After a moment, a battered yellow vehicle stopped beside her, screeching to a halt. Elsa took the door and plopped herself in. A young African-American man was at the wheel; kind and sweet-looking.

"What's a young lady like you doing out on the streets?" he asked, looking at her through his rear view mirror. He had asked the question with such authority, such a grown up sense and yet he seemed not much older than her.

"I got lost."

"Lost?"

"But I'm hoping I can head home now." she replied, clicking her seatbelt into place.

He shifted the gear and released the handbrake. "Consider it done."

* * *

><p>Pulling into the driveway had been the easy. Handing the amiable driver fifty-five dollars and twenty cents had been easy. Accepting the driver's "good luck" with grace had been easy. Walking up the driveway and knocking on the front door had been the easiest.<p>

It was having to explain where she had been, that was proving to be the most difficult.

"Where. Have. You. _Been!_"

"—We were so worried!"

"—Why didn't you come back like you said?"

"—Did I tell you to wander off?"

"—Didn't we specifically say to stay close?"

"Which fish did you get?" Elsa asked abruptly, acutely aware of her rudeness. "I know you were seriously tossing up between those last ones."

"I bought the big one for your information." Marie hissed, "But don't you get off topic here missy! You have a lot of explaining to do!"

"I left, I got a little lost. So what?" She knew her attitude was uncalled for, but seeing Marie's pathetic little face fired Elsa up something fierce.

"Don't smart mouth us, young lady!" roared Tobias, his second chin wobbling, "You are living under this roof, _you_ answer to _us!_"

"Who said I even want to be here?"

"Whether you like it or not Elsa Muller, you are no longer in England. Your family died, you just made it through and yet here you are gambling everything!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to run down her cheeks. "I wish I died along with them."

"How can you say such things?" exclaimed Marie, her blond hair a flurry, "You are the last member, you owe it to them-"

Elsa felt her anger boiling, surfacing and threatening to consume her. Any second now and she might possibly explode. She couldn't stand the sight of the woman, the way she paraded around thinking she was one of them. Elsa pointed a bony finger at her aunt.

"Don't! _Don't_! You have no _idea_, no damn idea what it's like to be me, to live like we did. Like I did. I don't know who you think you are-"

It had happened so fast, Elsa wondered if it had happened at all. One second she was screaming at Marie, the next Tobias' hand had come down on her.

Tobias was a strong man despite his physicality, his hands thick and built from his work. The blow had been a hard one.

Her right cheek burned, furiously stinging. It had been such a powerful blow, her head had flung to a side.

Elsa placed a hand on her fiery skin and stared at her uncle with horrified eyes.

He had chosen that woman, that imposter, over his own niece?

Elsa could see, though, that Tobias had already regretted what he had done. His eyes had begun to well with tears and for a brief moment his youth returned to his face. Like a child. Marie had her hand over her mouth, sobbing against the wall.

Tobias moved to speak, perhaps to apologize. But Elsa did not wait. She ran up the stairs and slammed her door, the childish wooden panel Marie had made falling to the floor with considerable force.

She was sobbing, runny snot mingling with her tears, her heart racing. She pulled out her suitcase, the one she had unpacked not hours ago, and began to pack it. She didn't care for propriety and neatness; her clothes fell wherever they pleased.

She wasn't staying here a minute longer.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much to . and S-Dawg 101 for your reviews! <strong>


	3. Kräuterlikör

Chapter 3

- Kräuterlikör-

* * *

><p>'<em>Blood really is thicker than water, and no aspect of human existence is untouched by that part of our psychology'.-<em>_Steven Pinker_

* * *

><p>He never drank from his stash of kräuterlikör, not unless the situation permitted it; he kept it under lock and key. He found it was all too easy to reach for the bottle whenever he became upset and so saving it for those rare moments he found himself on the edge of insanity, seemed like the most appropriate thing to do.<p>

Grief like this, so devastating and so abhorrent, hardly ever came along. Even when Elsa had called him, he hadn't moved it. It certainly did the job, but he had never really liked the taste; any desire for it came from his father. A mixture of herbs and spices, with a hint of sugar to lend some sort of the appeal to the weaker of infrequent drinkers.

Oh yes, Father had been particular fond of kräuterlikör. And his father, Tobias hadn't himself, he would never become.

He ran his hand through the remaining tufts of his hair and placed the glass on the table. The liquid swished and sloshed a little before finally settling. He ran his fingers along the line of his jaw, noticing it no longer felt taut and stretched. Now, it was weak to the touch and squishy in texture. Elsa was right; he _had_ gained weight. He had grown old.

Elsa…

"I can't believe she said all that." Tobias mumbled. "I can't believe _I_ did that."

"You're being too hard on yourself." soothed Marie, settling beside her husband with a cup of coffee I her hands. "It's easy to forget she's just a child."

Tobias raised a brow; his wife's patience astounded him. "After all she said to you?"

"I was like that when I was a kid." Marie chuckled, sipping on her coffee. "I yelled at my Mom, I said some pretty terrible things." As an afterthought, she added, "You always wanted children, here's what they're like."

"That doesn't excuse her behaviour." Tobias felt more than a little underappreciated, feeling the colour rising in his face. "Doesn't she understand what I'm trying to do? I'm trying to give her a _normal_ life. I'm trying to take her away from all that."

Placing her mug on the table, Marie leaned forward and spoke with as much scorn as she could. "Has it ever occurred to you that her life will never be normal? That it never has been? When did all this happen, a week or so ago? Have you actually asked her about that night?"

Tobias shook his head, tapping his finger on his temple. It was true. He hadn't actually sat down with her, asked her how it all happened or how she was truly coping. Somehow, it hadn't crossed his mind.

Even for all his degrees, his doctorate, Marie seemed to understand people better than she did.

"I can't imagine what she saw that night, what goes through her head every day now. But to suddenly uproot her and take her half way round the world and say 'Here. This is normal. Now take it,' and expect her to adapt? If that's what you honestly thought…I was under the impression you were intelligent, Tobias."

Tobias stood up abruptly, the tone suddenly thunderous and harsh. "Elsa has never been one to let her emotions run wild. This was-"

"Well, I can't expect that her emotions were tethered and bound to her these past days-"

"She ran off into a city she has been in for, for not even the length of a week!" interrupted Tobias. "What if something happened? What if she got hurt? All of this would have been for _nothing!_"

Marie stood herself, placing her hands on her hips. "You have to understand where she's coming from!"

"I _know_ where she's coming from Marie!" screeched Tobias. His outburst had been so abrupt, so brazen, Marie jumped in her skin, shocked into submission.

"I know! They were my family too!" Tobias continued, hands flying about maniacally. "You don't think I wanted to sit down for days and do nothing? That I didn't want to run onto the streets and jump in front of a car when I heard what had happened? You don't think I felt a part of me _die _when I realised he did? My little brother; dead. And I wasn't there to protect him."

Marie was crying, mascara running down her cheeks. She reached out her hand and attempted to comfort him. "How could you have-"

Tobias slapped away her away. "That's what big brothers are _meant _to do! They're _meant_ to be there for their little brothers, they're _meant_ to protect them even if no one else will and I wasn't there!"

Overwhelmed with grief, Tobias fell back onto his seat and wept. His face became slick with salty tears, sticky and uncomfortable.

Marie crossed her arms over her chest, her head throbbing. She had not known Dieter or Eva all that well; she had met them perhaps twice. But that lack of familiarity did not warrant any lack of compassion.

She got down onto her hunches, levelling herself with her husband. Taking his shaking hands into her own, Marie placed his knuckles to her quivering lips.

She would never have thought that Elsa's arrival into their family would have caused such anguish and pain, but then, it was incredibly naive of her to believe that this reunion had been the result of a happy circumstance.

* * *

><p>It was extremely dark and the air was uncomfortably damp. Only a single crack of light flitted through. This space had probably not been cleaned thoroughly since the twenties. It made her shudder to think what sort of diseases she could be catching right at this minute. She could hear voices from below, but they were heavily muffled. She attempted to stretch her legs, only stopping after remembering just how small her space was; she didn't want to risk any cramps. It hadn't been her brightest idea, but at least this gave her peace; even for a couple of minutes. Elsa sniffled and wiped her eyes. Her stomach growled. She wished that she had brought something to eat.<p>

* * *

><p>Tobias busied himself with the Christmas stockings. He hung his first upon the mantle, then Marie's. Elsa had not brought a stocking with her; it was perhaps the last thing on her mind when she had left. And so, for her lack of stocking, Marie had quickly sown one up. Complete with frills, bells, embellishes and the letters E-L-S-A embroidered on the middle.<p>

He hooked Elsa's stocking on the mantle and stood back. It was nice to see three stockings instead of two. It made him feel like he had a family of his own.

Though he did not care to admit it, he had always been a little jealous of his brother. Why Dieter had carried the elusive 'X' gene and Tobias had not had always been a sore spot between the two brothers. Dieter, for most of his life, had been the underdog, whilst Tobias had been the golden child. Dieter had never done all that well in school, his concentration always elsewhere. Where Dieter failed, Tobias succeeded. Where Dieter succeeded, Tobias exceeded.

Except in their genetic makeup.

Even before Dieter's mutation had revealed itself, he seemed to have won in the genetic lottery. He had been a sweet baby, a good-looking lad and a handsome man. His tall, athletic structure always caught the attention of many girls, of almost any age.

But when Dieter's mutation had manifested at the tender age of thirteen, it turned him into some sort of prodigal wonder in their father's eyes. Whatever Tobias did from this point forth, never quite lived up to genetic marvel Dieter.

It was because of this perhaps, that Tobias had travelled so far away; to get away from the feeling of being undermined all the time. Oh, for sure their parents loved them equally. Jokingly telling him that he was the future of their family and Dieter was just the half-hearted second attempt. But that never stopped Tobias feeling like he had failed at life itself. Dieter met a lovely young woman, of mixed-race and a mutant like himself, at seventeen, married her at twenty and became a father at twenty-three. Then would come his second, third and fourth child all of whom had inherited the X-Gene from both himself and his wife. Even his niece and nephews had done better than Tobias had. Of course Tobias loved Marie, but her being barren had denied him the one thing he had always wanted; children.

He heard Marie's footsteps and immediately wiped the tears from his eyes. She smiled and placed her arm around his waist. He kissed the side of her head.

"So what are you going to do?" was all he got.

"What am I going to do?" asked Tobias, his voice muffled against her hair.

Marie pushed herself out of Tobias' reach and faced him. "She stormed up there a few hours ago and we've not heard so much as a fart. She might have hung herself for all we know. Go and see how she is."

She tutted and shook her head, chastising her husband as if he were an infant.

"Why don't you go see?" whined Tobias.

"Me?" Marie laughed bitterly. "No, I'm the _last_ person she wants to see right now. You go,"

Tobias sighed.

Seeing her husband's anguish, Marie took his hand and squeezed it gently.

"I know it's hard." She said quietly. "But you do love her and I know you didn't mean to hurt her. She needs to know that. She needs a father right now."

"I don't know Marie…I can't replace Dieter."

"No one's asking you to replace any one. I'm merely asking you to act like family. It's Christmas Eve Tobias, for heaven's sake! Go and speak to her."

Tobias chuckled softly. His wife's words held some truth; but just how he was going to speak to her, completely baffled him. He had never imagined children to be so difficult, especially ones that were so late into their teens.

Mustering all the courage he could, Tobias decided to heed Marie's words.

* * *

><p>It was so quiet upstairs Tobias wondered if he had brought Elsa home in the first place. All of the doors were closed, the lights switched off. No life stirred on this floor.<p>

He frowned.

The wooden panel piece that he had nailed to Elsa's door now lay flat on the floor. He had heard her slam her door, but to knock it out of its nails?

He knocked on the barren door. "Elsa? Are you in there?"

Nothing answered him but silence.

"Elsa?"

Biting his lip, Tobias pushed on the wood of the door ever so lightly. Without much effort, it swung open to its full capacity, revealing a bedroom but no occupant. He entered with caution, fearing that any second now Elsa could jump from the shadows and attack him.

"Elsa?"

Tobias started to panic a little. He walked about her room, checking he had not somehow missed her presence. He checked the adjoining bathroom.

Nothing.

He checked under the bed.

Nothing.

Out the window?

No.

The ceiling?

Nothing.

Tobias' heart was beating furiously; he was afraid it would burst out of his chest. A billion thoughts were running through his mind. Almost tumbling over himself, Tobias ran down the stairs.

"I can't find her." He shrieked, completely out of breath.

"What?" snorted Marie. "Don't be ridiculous,"

"No, I checked her room, she's not there,"

"Did you check the other rooms?"

Tobias paused. "No."

Looking utterly exasperated, Marie grabbed her husband and together they flew up the stairs. Tobias motioned Marie to check the other rooms whilst he re-entered Elsa's. This time, he would check thoroughly; he knew how he was when it came to looking for things.

Tobias couldn't understand. Just where exactly could she have gone?

Then, he spotted something he had not seen the first time; Elsa's suitcase.

It had been thrown into the corner of the room, jammed between the bed and its side table. Carefully prying it out, Tobias unzipped it. All of Elsa's clothes were inside, stuffed and pushed where folding had become impossible. Her items were here, but she was not.

That certainly did not explain anything.

Tobias sighed. Just what-?

He stopped. He had heard something.

He strained his ears, even slowed his breathing; Tobias tried to hear it again.

There!

And there it was again!

Sniffing, and sighing.

Careful not to make a sound, Tobias followed the noise. He stood in the middle of the room. The noise had disappeared again.

It was then he noticed the wardrobe. Its double doors were not completely closed, they stood about a centimetre apart. He pressed his ear against the wood of one of the doors.

Shuffling.

Tobias felt a little uneasy. It could be a racoon for all he knew. Taking the handles of both doors, Tobias held his breath and opened them.

There she was. Clad in her nightgown, her hair pinned up, her legs bunched up against her chest. She gasped a little when the light burst through. Elsa's dark eyes widened a little, her lips slightly parted. The golden glow of her skin was gone, standing out against the dark wood of the wardrobe and flushed a strange yellow. At first, she looked a little frightened, now she simply appeared ashamed.

Tobias almost fainted with relief.

"What are you doing?" he asked her urgently. He crouched to her level and sat crossed legged on the floor. "We thought you ran off."

"I was going to,." she said quietly, a little attitude in her voice.

"I can see that." Tobias chuckled, flicking his head to her packed suitcase. He rubbed his eye a little, wondering which words would be best. "Listen Elsa, I-"

Elsa did not look at him. Instead she raised her hand and silenced his words.

"It's alright." She muttered. "You needn't apologize. I was being selfish and ignorant and I'm sorry for giving you an earful. It wasn't fair...I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. To either of you."

Tobias smiled. "It's alright."

He called out to Marie to stop the man hunt, his wife responding with "I knew you hadn't looked hard enough!"

Tobias chuckled. At least that was over. Perhaps they could shape the night into something better with a little dinner.

He made to stand, but was stopped as Elsa's voice found his ears.

"This is all my fault, uncle."

"What do you mean, my dear?" Tobias asked, settling back down again.

"This is all my fault." She repeated, still in her upright foetal position. "In so many ways. If I hadn't-if I….I caused…"

"What are you talking about? How is any of this your fault?"

"You don't understand, uncle. There's so much you don't know,"

Tobias sat back down and took his niece's bony hands into his. "Listen to me very carefully because I'll only explain this once. None of this was your fault-"

"But-"

"Elsa. You made it out alive and that is nothing to be ashamed of. Look at me. You loved your family very much and what you're doing now, saving yourself, it's not something that you should question. You are _obliged_ to do this. To move on. To live because they couldn't. Alright?"

Elsa nodded, but Tobias had the feeling she did not believe him. In any case, he knew that _she_ was lying. He had heard her, the night he had brought her home. Heard her turning on the taps, wailing and vomiting, over and over again.

"I don't know what I would have done if you really had run off." whispered Tobias.

Elsa smiled. "Neither would I."

Smiling, Tobias tugged at her hand and tilted his head to the side. "Come on, you must be hungry."

* * *

><p>Elsa was sitting up in her bed, her covers tucked over her crossed legs. She had tried her hardest, but she simply could not sleep. Everything was alien, nothing was her own and nothing felt right. Not even her dreams were her own anymore; even they had been taken by him.<p>

Sighing, she looked to her bedside clock. Three in the morning. Three in the morning, December twenty-fifth; Christmas day.

Almost another year gone.

Elsa sighed. Christmas had been spent so differently last year. The closest she had gotten to her uncle and aunt then was a Christmas card, and it was a half hearted one at that.

_Dear Uncle Tobias and Aunt Marie _

_Merry Christmas and Best Wishes for the New Year._

_Love Klaus, Fritz, Elsa and Rolf. _

Aunt Marie.

She had treated poor Marie like a second class citizen. Even after everything Elsa had said and done, Marie had still made her a hot chocolate, brushed her thick hair and set her to bed.

It was a sobering thought, to realise that she might have been wrong all along. Maybe Marie was a mutant herself, maybe her mutation was patience.

Elsa needed to apologize. But there was no way she was going to do it in full view of Tobias. That seemed a little awkward to her.

Elsa mused; just how exactly?

Then it came to her.

Closing her eyes, Elsa calmed herself. Waiting until her her mind had gone blank and completely still. She searched for Marie. It wasn't that hard; her aunt was only a room away.

She entered Marie's mind, quietly suggesting that the older woman should break from her dreams and get out of bed.

Elsa listened. She could hear shuffling from her uncle and aunt's bedroom.

She smiled.

Concentrating, Elsa had Marie walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water.

Quick as a flash but careful not to make any noise, Elsa hurried down, her mind still within Marie's. As she entered the kitchen, she slowed herself down and crept up behind her aunt.

Marie was at the sink. Her long silk nightgown fell to her feet, covering her fluffy slippers. Her golden hair had been put in place by about a dozen or more pink curlers. Marie's hand was at the tap, the other holding a glass beneath it. Though her body was occupied, it seemed her mind was not.

"Aunt Marie?"

Suddenly, as though all the life within her had returned, Marie jumped. Swivelling round, she chuckled as she saw Elsa, clutching her chest like she had been given the biggest heart attack of her life.

"Oh, it's just you Elsa!" Marie laughed. She gasped simultaneously as the glass overflowed with water. Elsa hastened to close the tap.

"Sorry." said Elsa,. "I didn't mean frighten you."

"No, no, no that's ok. I was just-I was...what _was_ I doing?"

Elsa smiled a little. "It looks like you were getting a glass of water."

"Oh, yes. Maybe I was thirsty." Marie shook her head. "And what about you? Couldn't sleep dear?"

"No, I couldn't."

"Oh, well that's understandable..."

Elsa decided to get to the point immediately; there was no point in dawdling.

"I need to apologize to you Marie."

Marie looked puzzled. "Why is that, my dear?"

Elsa sniffed. "All those things I said to you. I-I can't say that I didn't mean what I said, but you shouldn't have had to hear it."

Smiling, Marie put her arm around her niece and gave her a tight squeeze. She pulled away and held Elsa at arm's length.

"It's alright Elsa. You never have to apologize, not to me, not to Tobias, not to anyone ever again."


	4. The Weather Outside is Frightful

-Chapter 4-

-The Weather Outside is Frightful-

* * *

><p>'<em>He led a double life. Did that make him a liar? He did not feel a liar. He was a man of two truths'.-<em>_Iris Murdoch_

* * *

><p>Elsa stared at her reflection in the window, watching her own eyes dart back and forth. She felt that she looked considerably better than she did than when she arrived, now that she settled in a little. She could not see anything beyond the sharp lines of her face, save for a few tendrils of dark hair which had fallen into her eyes; against the blue-black darkness of the sky above and beneath the dim flickering lights of the street lamps, the darkness of her eyes and thickness of her hair simply blended in. She tried to catch herself looking the other way, to see herself in a different light only to meet her reflection too quickly.<p>

It was proving to be quite a quiet Christmas, what with just the three of them. The other families in the street had either travelled for the holidays, leaving their homes bare and in the care of neighbours, or brought over numerous relatives and blasted the same carols repeatedly as they squabbled over their meals. It was a sort of Christmas Elsa hadn't really known, and indeed made her curious, but it was not one she necessarily longed for. And now, it didn't seem that she'd ever get one.

A shadow fell across the sill. Elsa looked up, smiling as her uncle sat down beside her with a glass of thick eggnog in his hand. He chuckled as he took a sip.

"How are you?" he asked.

"No worse than five minutes ago, the last time you asked me." said Elsa.

"Sorry." laughed Tobias. "I was just making sure I wasn't making you feel-"

"It's fine,"

Tobias nodded and drained his drink, wiping away the drops that clung to his the thick hairs of his moustache. Uncomfortable silence passed between them, making them shift in their seats in unease. Elsa considered reading his mind, play around for a bit, but it was Christmas; everyone deserved a break.

Finally, Tobias placed his glass on a side table. He lingered for a moment before pulling out a small, velvet box out of his pocket. He held it out to her.

"I wanted to give this later, but I think you need this now." He said. "Merry Christmas, Elsa."

Elsa took the box into her hands, staring at it with a strange intensity.

"You didn't have to." She mumbled quietly.

"But I did. Have a look."

Her fingers shaking slightly, Elsa lifted the lid of the box and pushed away the inner silk cover.

Elsa felt a little puzzled. It was small, golden pocket watch and it seemed to be of considerable age; the hinges were slightly rusted and it smelt of metal and blue-collar labour. But despite its age, it still shone and gleamed with considerable beauty.

A painful knot was unfurling in her stomach; the golden tone reminded her of someone. Someone she once loved, someone she thought she trusted.

"It was my father's, given to your father." explained Tobias, staring at the watch. "Papa was obsessed with this sort of thing, you know? Passing on bits and pieces. Something about the whole idea of continuation, the circle of life and all that, really lit a fire in him. I thought it would be best if you had it, now that you're the youngest of the family."

Elsa scrunched her lip, tears jangling dangerously at the corners of her eyes.

She took the watch out of its box and held it in her hands. The two tiny black hands ticked at its centre, just clicking over half past seven. She could see her reflection in the glass of the watch, a little bloated though. She squinted, looking to the intricate design of the clock face.

It really was a beautiful piece of work.

She looked up at her uncle, a single tear running down her cheek. Tobias instantly reached out, wiping it away with his thumb.

"This was my father's?"

"Yes." Tobias let out a dry chuckle. "It's in _my_ possession, because your father never felt right about having it."

Elsa frowned, staring at her uncle quizzically.

"Heirlooms normally go to the eldest child but Papa completely bypassed me and handed it to your father, before he met your mother I might add. Don't ask me why, the old bastard took that one to the grave. I don't think I really cared about it, but it really ate your father up. He just couldn't stand the guilt, I suppose." Tobias slumped back in his seat, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"That sounds like something Dad would do." Elsa admitted, carefully tucking the watch back into the box.

"Your father's only weakness I think; empathy." Tobias said. "He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, even though it wasn't his job to do so."

He leaned forward, wrapping an arm around Elsa's shoulders.

"I don't want you to do the same." He pleaded, searching her eyes. "I want you to live this life as your own, not as a supplement to everyone else's."

Elsa said nothing, staring down at the box in her hands. She could feel a painful lump growing in her throat and she was desperate for Tobias to leave the room, to allow her to scoop up the tears that were about to run free.

After a moment, Tobias gave Elsa's shoulders a quick squeeze. He kissed her on the forehead, tucked her hair behind her ear and before she knew it, Elsa was alone.

* * *

><p>The lights were dim, popping and flickering, threatening to plunge everyone into darkness. The sharp crackle of live electricity buzzed and zinged, filling the tiny basement with dreadful white noise. The air was uncomfortably thick and stagnant, the result of the high windows being welded shut.<p>

The young man hurried about his work with displeasure. He hated doing this sort of work, the dirty stuff. He believed in the cause but not in the method; thuggery and violence achieved nothing but a body count.

He pushed his deep flaxen hair out of his eyes, stealing a quick glance at the prisoner. A pang of nausea hit the young man every time he thought of their captive, painfully struck with memories of a man so discordant with the one he was seeing now. The captive was strapped to a chair, bound by heavy straps of leather and tightened with bolts. His legs were fastened together, thick rope wrapped round and tied with intricate knots.

It was surprising really, that their efforts had proved successful; Tom Eastham was a sturdy, muscular man with a quiet strength that could be devastating when utilised. His mutation made him all the more formidable.

Now, he sat in the middle of a dank basement, strapped stiff into a backbreaking wooden chair, covered in dried blood and miscellaneous gashes.

The young man sighed as he placed the stale lump of bread beside the assortment of dry nuts. He had insisted upon a heartier meal, but his kindness had seen no success.

Picking up a dirty mug filled with water, he carried the plate to their captive.

He dare not catch Tom's eye. Tom was bound under certain conditions yes, but that did not mean he wouldn't try anything.

The young man broke apart the bread and attempted to feed it to Tom, shaking it before him in the way one would do so for a dog.

Tom turned his head to the side, refusing the food. He coughed a little, his broad chest heaving. He hacked a large glob of blood and spat it onto the ground, dribbling as he did. The young man insisted with the bread and Tom continued to refuse.

"You have to eat,]." the young man urgently insisted. "You've not eaten for several days now."

Tom sniffed, the dried blood around his nose crackling as he did. He smiled to himself. His stomach no longer growled, his arms no longer ached. After what seemed like his fiftieth beating, his body seemed to have numbed itself, no longer feeling the physical pain that his captives took such a liberty to.

True, if he concentrated enough, he could paralyse everyone in this room. But, as it was, he had been bound by a contract. A contract forged through blackmail. They had something of his and he wouldn't dare do anything blatant until he was sure he could get them back.

Licking his lips, Tom looked to his caregiver.

"You try to act like your father." Tom grinned, his eyes gleaming. "But you're nothing like him, like the rest of them."

Warren stiffened, clearing his throat.

"You let her go, didn't you Warren?" Tom said quietly.

Warren's face fell, his eyes widening.

It astonished Tom that Warren was only a lad. Just eighteen years old; anyone would have guessed otherwise. Any sense of responsibility or growth had not shown up until this point. In the past couple of days he had tried to dirty his angelic appearance, trying his best to blend in amongst his thuggish comrades. But Warren was the son of a pharmacist, not a stonemason. He had never needed to toughen his skin or thicken his skull, nor will he ever.

"It's alright you can admit it now."

Warren let out a dry chuckle, his blue eyes glimmering. His lips were quivering and the words that came sounded hoarse and clumsy. "I thought that if I went with them, I'd get over it. That if I ki-"

"That if you killed her, you'd prove to yourself that you no longer loved her?" interrupted Tom.

Warren looked to Tom with a weak expression, a sadness in his eyes Tom had never seen in him before.

"Yes." he said quietly. "...But I was wrong."

Warren closed his eyes, his cheeks fast turning red. For second, it seemed as though he was about to burst into tears. When he finally opened his eyes, he spoke: "I can't stop thinking about her. Where she is, what is she doing, is she alright?"

Tom smiled, though it pained him physically to do so. "Love does that to you."

"Love makes you do pretty stupid things," laughed Warren quietly. For a moment, Warren's face began to crumble. The week's events hadn't truly sunken and his time for grief or remorse had been cut severely short.

Warren was a good-looking boy, with golden hair that went well with his deep blue eyes. The type all the girls wanted to be with and all the boys wanted to be. Intelligent, educated and decent. But lately, his hair had faded, had become dry and pale. His eyes had been wrenched from most of its colour, as if the spark inside him had died. Now he looked more like a statue than an angel of the skies above.

"I'm sorry Tom."

Tom shook his head, his green eyes dilating. "You didn't do any of this,"

Warren shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Tom. In more ways than one,"

Tom looked to Warren; his green eyes meeting the boy's blue ones. He supposed, even after everything, they were both victims.

There was the sound of scraping metal and a sequential thud. The basement began to fill with the voices of several people, all men and all harsh in tone. Warren flinched; he knew his father's voice anywhere.

Lewis Worthington entered the cramped basement, his presence and his authority shining through his erect stance. In many ways, Warren resembled Lewis. They both shared their blonde hair, blue eyes and impressive physique. The only difference, if one was really concentrating, was Warren's lack of moustache.

Lewis motioned his son to leave, the boy somewhat reluctantly doing so. The head of the Worthington household took out a crippled old chair and sat with the back of it facing him, his legs at either side.

Lewis looked right into Tom's eyes, smirking a little.

"How are you holding on, Tom?" asked Lewis, his voice as smooth as silk.

Tom giggled. "Spectacular I am,"

Lewis nodded his head. Without another word, he pulled out a sleek rectangular box and opened it. Inside contained a syringe and collection tube. Lewis looked to Tom and flicked his eyebrows once, quiet malice bristling beneath his cold features.

"You know, Tom." began Lewis, fixing the tube onto the syringe. "Even though I don't like you very much, I have to admit your blood will be the key to everything I plan to do."

Tom groaned. "Why?"

"Why?" Lewis looked bewildered. "Your mutation allows you to cause paralysis, with a single thought. You're basically a tranquilizer gun with legs. Your mutation is incredible."

"Then why do this to me?"

"Same reason why I had the Muller family killed; I hate mutants." Lewis said this with absolute calm and collection, as if he were talking about gardening than murder.

"But," continued Lewis. "Your genes hold, potentially, what I need for my serum. Perhaps I'll not be able to cure the mutant of its mutation, but maybe I'll be able to subdue it. To put it into _paralysis_. And to do that, it must be done at a molecular level."

Without another word, Lewis pressed the needle to the ditch of Tom's exposed arm and drew out a good sample of blood. The thick liquid sloshed into the tube, thick and gluggy.

Tom winced.

"Almost done." soothed Lewis. After a minute, he drew out the needle, took off the tube and discarded the sharp instrument as carelessly as he would a sock.

"That's unhygienic." pointed out Tom.

Lewis ignored the little quip; a mutant's opinion meant nothing to him. Instead, he looked to Tom and shook his head.

"I can't say that doing...doing all this has made me happy." said Lewis. He smiled a sad smile, tilting his head to the side as he examined Tom Eastham. "It's such a shame, seeing a fit, handsome man being brought to such a place,"

Tom had no intention of participating in Lewis' games. The time of talking and diplomatic solutions had long been burned.

Lewis took no notice of Tom's silence, continuing on. "So tell me Tom. Why did she escape?"

Again, Tom did not move to speak.

Grasping his baton, and without warning, Lewis landed a smart smack to Tom's injured leg, right over an open wound. Tom shrieked.

"I believe I asked you a question."

Lewis struck again. He walked over to the small fire that was roaring in the corner, picked up the red-hot metal poker and walked back. He waved it threateningly, a maniacal look upon his face.

He felt pathetic for it, pathetic that he lived up to the idea that a man will do anything to avoid pain. But he simply could not take anymore.

He desperately forced the words out of his mouth. "It worked. I know it did. I felt her mind. I got to her. I did-"

"Then how did she escape?" Lewis hissed.

"I don't-"

"I'm sorry?" asked Lewis, placing his hand to the back of his ear. "I didn't quite catch that,"

Tom took in a deep breath, keeping his gaze at his feet. With all the strength and scorn in him, Tom looked to his tormentor and with as much menace, as he could muster, growled through gritted teeth, "I. Don't. Know."

"That's not good enough." whispered Lewis. He got up from his feet and paced the room.

"You'd think with a mutation like yours," He spat, "this would have been quite the success."

"I can only cause temporary paralysis in mutants," Tom's voice was hoarse and breathless, "And how long depends on the individual."

Tilting his head to the side, he added as an afterthought; "Perhaps you should ask Warren."

Lewis turned around with lightening speed, his eyes flashing with anger. "I'm sorry?"

Irritated, Lewis swung the metal poker in his hand in dangerous circle. He huffed. "He no longer cares for her. He broke it off. He accompanied us that night, he had a hand in what happened-"

Tom laughed heartily.

"I don't care for _your_ thoughts, Eastham. This isn't about my son and a passing fancy he had."

"What is this about then, Worthington?" asked Tom, his voice heavy with scorn. "All this mass murder, this hate, why? What have we done to you?"

"You're a threat to the human kind." said Lewis matter-of-factly. "If you plan rise up as the successors of the human race, then what are we to do? Why should a select few be given such advantageous powers and the rest of us just sit around taking orders? I'm not stupid, I know how mutations come about. But that doesn't mean things shouldn't be normalized. If we all can't have it, then none of us should."

Tom sniggered. "You're not a Commie are you, Lou?"

"As ill-conceived the idea is, I have no fear of the proletariat."

Tom swallowed, his throat burning and stinging."Where's my family?"

Lewis sniffed. "They're here."

"I want to see them."

"I'm afraid, dear Tom, I do not answer to you. You answer to me,"

"I've done everything you wanted me to do." Tom pleaded, tears running down his dirty face.

"You did." agreed Lewis. "_Just _about everything,"

Tom felt sick. "What are you-"

"The deal was, you'd accompany us, we'd kill the family, you'd get yours back. Yes?" Lewis sat back upon his seat and pointed a sturdy finger at him. "Well_ that_ didn't happen, did it? The girl survived. She got out. And survival wasn't supposed to be a part of it."

Warren suddenly emerged from the shadows; evidently he had not left the basement as he had been told so. The boy's face was ashen. "Father..."

Lewis put up his hand, his voice raised in volume. "Warren. It is not your place to give your opinion. In fact, why are you still here? Get back up to the house. Go on."

Warren looked as though he was about to burst into a rage but upon seeing his father's stern expression, he gave Tom one last look and left.

"Please." whispered Tom.

"Oh, don't worry." smiled Lewis. He waltzed behind Tom and fiddled with the ropes that bound him. Tom could the ropes slackening, until he was finally able to shake them off. Groaning, be brought his arms round and tentatively rubbed his red and bleeding wrists.

"You'll see them." continued Lewis. "I'm a man of my word."

Lewis walked to the door, went through and closed it behind him.

Tom sighed a sigh of relief. He had not seen his family for days. He longed to bask into in the glow of Joshua's unassuming smile and to feel the softness of Bridget's hair, to feel Louise's' curves and edges.

Within minutes, the door opened again and through it came a tall, burly man. His skin was as dark as night, with eyes glittering like the moon. He took one disgusted look at Tom before stepping aside.

"Dad!"

"Daddy!"

"Oh, Tom..."

It all became a blur of hugs, kisses and gibberish expressing relief. Tom was crying, his tears washing away the blood. He held his family to his chest. Louise showered her husband with kisses, running her hands over his head.

"Tom, Tom, oh my God, I thought...I thought...what have they done to you? What have they done to you?"

"It's alright Louise." soothed Tom. "Really, it's not as bad as it looks..."

"Daddy, you're bleeding..."

"I know my sweet..."

His family sat at his feet, holding his hands and arms. Joshua was sobbing uncontrollably, snot running down his face.

"Hey." said Tom quietly, taking his son's face into his hands, "Hey, it's alright. It's Christmas isn't it?"

Tom felt a shift in the air and saw Lewis re-entering the basement. Following him came Warren, his arms tucked behind his back. Lewis ran his fingers along the length of his thick moustache and sighed. After a pause, he let out a long pitched whistle.

Four men entered the basement. All clad in thin, dirty vests and even dirtier trousers, each with a dirty face to match.

Tom scrunched his eyebrows.

_What?_

With practised ease, each man pulled their arms out from behind their backs. Their timing was impeccable as each of them raised their own M14 rifle simultaneously. Tom's breaths began to quicken, his heart beating furiously. He looked to Warren.

The boy's face was covered with tears, red and puffy from prolonged weeping. He too raised hada rifle, his arms shaking.

It was as if reality had finally set in. Fell out of a cement mixer, and slowly sliding down his throat before settling in his stomach. His heart snagged against his ribs, his breathing laboured.

"No..."

Tom heard a voice.

"Shoot him first, he poses the greatest threat. Then the rest of them,"

Tom's throat tightened. His children began to scream, frightened by the big men with the big guns. His wife began to sob, shaking Tom's arm begging him to explain. Tom held onto his family, wailing without constraint.

He barely heard anything else from that point on, only a fuzzy humming. He could distantly hear his children's dying screams, his wife's final cries. Bullets whizzed past his ears, some finding their mark on his battered body. His surroundings were starting to darken, the edges of his vision filling in. He didn't feel anything, only a numb tingling as he fell to the ground.


	5. First Day Nerves

Chapter 5

-First Day Nerves-

She woke with a violent jerk, heart pounding and breath ragged. Beads of thick sweat rolled down her neck and down her back, slicking her skin and sticking her silken night gown to her body. She was blinking furiously, chest heaving at a rapid pace.

Fumbling in the dark, Elsa flipped over and slapped her side table, searching for her bedside lamp.

She flicked on the switch, recoiling as the sudden influx of light temporarily blinded her.

The yellow-green numbers of her bed-side clock glowed in the dark, slightly faded and fuzzy at the edges.

3.51 am.

Rubbing her eyes, Elsa sat up and rested against the wide bed head. She held her head in her hands, taking slow and deep breaths.

She had had a nightmare. A nightmare she did not understand in any sense. She had not seen a thing, only the darkest black. But she had heard everything. Strange and curious noises that would have frightened even the hardest of men. Yelps and growls; twice the blood curdling screams of a dying man.

Now that she felt calmer, Elsa mused. She had heard of people who dreamed exclusively in black and white, who could feel and taste, but not once had she heard of dreaming without picture. Elsa liked to think she was not superstitious, not one to believe in prophetic dreams and forecasts. But it was difficult not to consider the unlikely; she was telepathic, clairvoyancy was not too much of a step further.

Her hands clutched opposite elbows, wincing at her abnormally large goose-bumps. Elsa looked around her room, shrinking back from the tall shadows which towered over in the dim light. It was now, more than ever, that Elsa felt alone. These silk trim blankets did not carry her scent; this bed felt strange, this house alien. Even the air she took into her lungs did not settle well.

She snuggled back beneath the covers.

New Years had gone by like a flickering candle, and in all honesty, Elsa hardly noticed it was now 1962. It certainly didn't feel any different. And if anything, other, more pressing, issues were weighing upon her mind. She was going to be starting school today, in a few hours, senior year. The remainder of her final year of formal schooling and after which she would be truly entering the big bad world. She had commenced the first half of her final year back in England and now she would complete in the United States. What a turn of events.

Elsa wanted to go back to bed, to get as much rest as she could, but the sweat she had garnered in her frightful slumber made her feel icky and unhygienic.

Sighing, Elsa rolled out of her bed and made way for the bathroom. A quick shower would fix it, she decided.

Quietly slipping off her gown, she stood beneath the shower head. She was careful to avoid her hair, letting the boiling hot water to run off the rest of her. She closed her eyes and faced up towards the shower head, the high pressure noise drowning out everything else.

It came quickly, and caught her almost completely off-guard; the sadness. The blood tingled at the tips of her fingers, pain pooling in her palms. Her sobs came out in shuddered gasps, her shoulders shaking. Elsa caught her balance on the shower door, almost slipping down to the tiled floor.

She slowly sank down, arms wrapped round her naked self and her knees tucked beneath against her chest, sobbing uncontrollably into the streaming water.

* * *

><p>Tobias could smell his breakfast well before he could see it. The smell of scrambled eggs seasoned with salt and pepper and thick rashers of crisp bacon wafted up the stairs. And of course, the ashy tang of burnt toast.<p>

Almost slipping on the last step of the stairs, Tobias entered the kitchen and kissed his wife.

"Good morning, my sweet." He cooed.

"Good morning, darling." replied Marie happily. She was still wrapped in her house robe, hair pulled into a bun atop her head. She may have woken up not a few hours ago, but she still looked as fresh as a spring morning.

Tobias sat down at the table and pulled out yesterday's newspaper. He had already read all of it, back to front and front to back, but until he received the morning edition he'd read it again. He attempted to read the advertisement section, but much to his annoyance, the black print words were beginning to blur and merge into one big blob of black ink; he had left his reading glasses upstairs.

Frustrated, he threw the newspaper into the trash can and stretched out his arms.

"Where's Elsa?" Tobias suddenly asked. "Shouldn't she be up by now?"

"It's only...what...half past six." replied Marie, checking the leather strap watch around her wrist. "I think she set her alarm for fifteen to seven."

Feeling restless, Tobias got back up. "I'll go check on her anyway,"

"Ok. Don't trouble her, though."

Still a little unsteady on his feet, Tobias made his way back up the stairs and to his niece's bedroom. Today was her first day of school at Preston Academy, the only decent school Tobias had been able to find at such short, short notice.

It was to be a new year, at a new school, in a new country; a fresh start. But the school year itself was not new and that alone made Tobias a little uneasy. The problem with entering a school months into the scholastic year, especially the senior year, was that by now everyone had already fallen into their cliques. They had already made life-long friends, and established an order, their social groups.

It was awkward enough that she was the new kid, but she was the foreign new kid.

Despite his fears, Tobias had faith in Elsa. He was sure that she would make friends easily. And if she didn't, he knew she was just as comfortable being alone.

"Elsa?" he called, slightly troubled by the answering silence. He knocked again, frowning as he did; he could hear cursing from within Elsa's room.

"God damnit."

"Ellie?"

"...bollocks. What buffoonery is this? What-?"

Tentatively, hoping to God she was decent, Tobias pushed open the door. Elsa was sitting crossed legged on her bed, hunched over with her back in the air at an inhumane angle. If it weren't for the dark tufts of hair which stuck out from the sheets, Tobias would have thought that Elsa had lost her head.

"Elsa?"

With lightening speed, Elsa sat right back up. Now that he could see her properly, Tobias could tell that Elsa had not had a minute's sleep. Her hair was all over the place, falling into her dark eyes that were ringed with dark circles. A stern, annoyed expression was plastered on her face.

"What?" she asked forcefully. "Oh, it's you Uncle,"

"What are you doing?" asked Tobias, resting against the door frame. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her niece.

Elsa sighed dramatically and a pencil across the room. "I was playing Sudoku. Trying to, anyway."

"Ah. Hence the cursing." laughed Tobias. He tugged at his night robes. They were getting smaller. Either that, or maybe, just maybe, he was gaining weight.

Elsa fell back onto her bed. "Yeah."

Tobias shook his head as he took weight off the door frame. "Since you're up, why don't you get dressed and come down for breakfast? Hmm? You've got a big day ahead of you."

"Sure."

A big day ahead of her. That, supposedly, would make her feel better. Elsa had never had to move schools, save the transition from primary school to high school and even that had been relatively easy. Most of her childhood friends had moved to the same high school, so making friends hadn't been much of problem. She had not been the most popular girl in school, but nor had she been the social pariah. She had floated somewhere in between, under the radar, without attracting any unnecessary attention.

But now, it was an entirely different ball game. Not only was this a new school, it was new country. She would stick out like a pigeon among foxes.

Elsa sighed as she rolled off her bed. Her arms felt like lead weights and her feet lagged behind her, but somehow, she made it to her wardrobe.

There it hung. The ugliest uniform set she had ever seen in the entirety of her life. But, much to her surprise, Elsa found herself pulling off her nightgown, pulling on her under garments and pulling her school shirt off its hanger.

With each button she secured, Elsa felt even more uneasy. This new start couldn't be finished quick enough.

* * *

><p>Elsa stood awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, staring down at herself with distaste. Her blazer was about an inch too big at the arms and drooped into folds at her shoulders; her tie was nothing more than a thin strip of red silk hung around her neck and pinned at her throat, with one end secured over the other; her tartan skirt was worn and faded, already fraying at the ends. It was her stockings Elsa hated the most; the itch was unlike anything she had experienced before and if she hadn't had chopped off her long fingernails, she would have scratched her legs until the stockings turned from grey to red.<p>

Elsa absently tapped her heels together, thinking of the bedtime tale her mother used to read to her. Childishly, Elsa tapped her heels together once more, absently hoping she'd be transported back to England, and that nothing had changed. But Elsa was no pig-tailed Dorothy, and this was not Oz.

"Oh, don't you look lovely!"

Marie poked her head out of the living room, wiping her hands with a checked cloth. She was beaming, bright blues sparkling and pearly teeth glistening. Marie beckoned and begrudgingly, Elsa followed. She sat at the dining table, frowning at the smiling face Marie had made for her out of eggs and bacon.

"I look like I should be institutionalised." She muttered, staring at her plate. Marie giggled as she sat down beside her niece.

"Well, I don't think anyone else could pull off institutionalized chic as well as you do." said Marie matter-of-factly, waving her fork.

"Thank you."

Following the creek of the wooden floorboards and the quiet shuffling of feet, Tobias emerged. Clad in a slimming black suit and a pair of fine oxfords, he looked rakish but unusually stylish. Smiling, he sat down beside Elsa.

"Now, isn't this a smart uniform?" He said, smiling approvingly.

"I was just saying that myself." said Marie.

Elsa remained quiet, wolfing down her breakfast as quickly as could. She couldn't tell if she was eager or nervous; this all seemed too surreal.

"It is a fine school." declared Maire, her expression soft and motherly. She placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "And I am sure you'll make plenty of friends."

"What if I don't make any?" asked Elsa quickly, pushing away her knife and fork. "I doubt I'm going to fit in."

"Of course you will." Tobias laughed dismissively.

"Just don't get too friendly with your teachers, the men-folk I mean. Fun, just not worth it." Marie winked at Tobias, who cleared his throat uncomfortably. Elsa felt a little nauseous; a billion thoughts of her aunt and uncle raced into her head, all of them wildly inappropriate and unsettling.

"We'll be going now." said Tobias stiffly. He gave his wife a quick kiss and barrelled out the door, his jacket flying behind him. Elsa picked up her school satchel and slung it over her shoulder, securing the straps as she did.

She paused for a moment, staring into the distance. So, that was it then. She was going back to school, the past was never to be spoken of again and everything was going to be normal once more. Though it was clear to Elsa that she hardly understood what was normal anymore.

Just as she wrapped her fingers round the door knob, Elsa felt a hand on her arm turning her around.

Marie was standing before her, a broad smile on her doll-like face. She was clutching a beige broad brimmed hat, completely with a bright red ribbon wrapped round the head. She handed it out to Elsa.

Elsa shook her head. "Yeah, no."

"It's part of the uniform."

"No."

"Go on."

"_No_."

"Come on." Marie pleaded, jutting out her bottom lip. "Wear it for me?"

Elsa frowned. She looked stupid enough as it was and she was sure that no one else would be wearing it; the hat would guarantee her a spot at the bottom of preparatory school food chain. Oh but, Marie looked so hopeful. Like a mother gushing as she sent her child to school for the first time.

Sighing, Elsa snatched the monstrosity out of her aunt's hands, muttering a decidedly poisonous "gimme that," under her breath before launching herself out of the door.

* * *

><p><em>Lower East Side Regional Teacher of the Year 1947, Winner of the Lower East Side Unofficial Book Club Award 1952, Croquet Champion 1940, Best Kept Lawn-Regional Division... <em>

Elsa stared in amazement. She didn't know it was possible to have so many awards, let alone for useless achievements. It seemed Principal Hindley had won just about every award in the book, galaxy and beyond, and despite her best efforts, Elsa felt a little intimidated.

Principal Hindley was an old man, with not a single hair atop his shiny egg-like head but enough to be declared a national park on the sides. He wore thick, bottle-bottom glasses which made his eyes look bulbous and unnatural, and his thick greying moustache hung over his top lip much like the tusks of a walrus. Elsa watched with a little nerve as he poured over the thick wads of paper which were spread out over his desk.

"Now, I've had a look at your previous reports, from your previous school of course-"

"How?" interrupted Elsa. She hadn't meant to, but now that she had there was no taking it back.

Principal Hindley smiled. "I'm sorry?"

"What I mean is, how did you come across them? I sort of left in a hurry..."

"Oh, it was entirely Uncle's doing." laughed Hindley. Tobias, who was sitting beside Elsa, gushed a little.

"He provided all the necessary contacts from your previous school." continued Hindley. "I called them up and they faxed all your reports over. Now, I'll be honest, faxes aren't all that common in schools but the elites of the world do need to stay ahead don't they? This school is a fine institution, as was your previous one."

Hindley titled his head at Elsa. "As I was saying, I had a look through your previous records and I must say that they're quite good. Behaviour wise, excellent. But, I see you had some trouble with mathematics?"

Elsa shifted in her seat and offered an uneasy smile. "Yes, I often hyperventilate at the sight of a number."

"But everything else seems fine." pointed out Hindley. "History, English, Biology, Chemistry-all quite standard. But there is still work to be done, yes?"

"Yes." agreed Elsa. Though she felt pathetic for it, she swelled with a little pride. She often told herself otherwise, but it was nice for someone to assure her she wasn't _completely _stupid.

Principal Hindley reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a floppy piece of paper. "Well, here is your timetable."

He got up from his seat and brushed off his trousers. Elsa and Tobias followed.

"Well," smiled Hindley. "I suppose this is the time to say goodbye."

Tobias turned his niece and enveloped her into a warm, familial hug. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

"Goodbye, Uncle."

Tobias pulled away and held her at arm's length. "Don't be getting into trouble now."

He kissed her on the forehead, bid Principal Hindley a good day and left, leaving Elsa and Principal Hindley alone. The older man trotted over to Elsa and peered over her shoulder.

"What do we have first? Let's see...biology! Come along then."

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Elsa followed. The school corridors weren't all that different from the ones of her old school. Banners promoting school sports teams, fliers detailing upcoming school events, pictures of the school mascot (in this case, a very angry looking goat) and rows upon rows of two tier lockers.

"Oh, biology is just so interesting." commented Hindley absently, as he trotted ahead. He turned his head over his shoulder and smiled. "Whereabouts in England are you from, Elsa?"

"I was born in South London," said Elsa. "But my family moved to Oxford when I was about a year old."

"Oxford, hey?" giggled Hindley. "So your county would be Oxfordshire?"

Elsa felt like giggling herself. "Yeah."

"I'm quite the expert on England." said Hindley matter-of-factly. "_Love _the place, go there every year. All my relatives live in Ireland, though."

"Is that right?"

Hindley stopped abruptly and Elsa almost collided into him. A curious smile played on his lips, his cheeks slightly flustered.

"I hope you don't mind my asking..." He began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"What exactly is your...what I mean is..." Hindley turned a bright red, clearly lost for words. "I don't wish to sound insensitive, but what is exactly is your...background?"

Elsa stared for a moment, brow furrowed.

"It's just, you don't appear entirely..."

"What, you mean my race?"

"Yes!" Hindley laughed nervously, dramatically placing a hand over his heart.

Elsa smiled, admiring Hindley's attempt at tactfulness; most others had not been so considerate in the past.

"My father was-is German, and my mother is of mixed race."

"Oh! Well, isn't that exciting?" Hindley cooed. He began recounting previous encounters with such individuals, and of friends who had 'dabbled in it', but Elsa was not listening.

Hindley's response was an unusual one; one Elsa had been accustomed to back home but certainly not with those beyond the village. Some found it abhorrent, most found it hard to understand. This was slightly refreshing.

They recommenced their journey, and before long they were standing in front of the door to a science lab. She could not see much into the classroom, for the glass window was rippled and frosted. Elsa could feel her heartbeat rising.

With only a single knock, Principal Hindley entered the classroom.

Elsa felt like quietly backing away and running full pelt out of the school, consequences be damned. It was only until Hindley popped his head out of the classroom and asked for her that the girl made any movement.

It was a classroom of around twenty, a mixture of boys and girls, all in matching uniforms. Principal Hindley motioned to the red-headed woman at the front of the class.

"Miss Hayes?"

"Principal Hindley." She blushed.

"This is our new student; Elsa." Hindley pulled Elsa out of the shadows and shoved her gently to the front of the classroom. "She's from England. Please make her feel welcome,"

"Of course, Principal Hindley!" The woman, who seemed slightly too young to be teaching, stretched out her hand and pulled Elsa towards her.

"Well, Elsa." said Hindley. "This is where I leave you."

Elsa offered him her most sincere smile. "Thank you, Principal Hindley,"

Elsa turned back to the classroom, startled by the twenty pairs of eyes staring at her. Every student examined this newcomer, wondering if she was one to ignore or one to be wary of.

A couple of girls at the back gave her dirty looks; some were nice enough to offer a smile, whilst others appeared completely unfazed. A small group of boys sat towards the back. Elsa presumed that these were the popular males. The jocks, Elsa believed Americans called them. The largest one, the most keen looking, gave her a once over before giving his comrades a nod.

Elsa wanted to melt to the floor; standing naked would have been less embarassing.

"So Elsa, tell us about yourself." suggested Miss Hayes, her hazel eyes completely on Elsa. "You're from England?"

"Yes." muttered Elsa. "From Oxford."

"Oh, the university?" called out one girl.

"N-no, the city."

The class erupted into quiet giggles, the particular girl now reddening in the face. In attempt to put the probing back onto Elsa, Miss Hayes spoke: "Now, Muller, that's a German name isn't it?"

"Yes."

Miss Hayes smiled. "Can you speak German?"

"Yes. Some. I'm not very good."

"Why don't you say something then?" this time, a boy called out. It was from the back, the group of males she had spotted before. It was wildly apparent that this broad-shouldered young man was the alpha of his otherwise indistinguishable pack. He looked at Elsa with a ravenous expression, squinting his eyes at her. Elsa did not normally read others just as she met them, but she simply didn't like the look of this one.

Elsa raised her brow a little; it seemed the boy's thoughts were just as menacing as his appearance.

"Like what?" asked Elsa, attempting a calm and neutral expression.

"I don't know." said the boy, shrugging his shoulders. "Something."

For the first time in a long while, Elsa felt empowered. It was a small power, almost nothing if one thought about it but one nonetheless.

"Sie haben ein Gesicht wie ein Arsch und ich würde mich nicht wundern, wenn jene zwei körperlichen attribute ein und dasselbe,"

"What does that mean?" He asked with a laugh.

"It means, 'you seem like a nice person and I am sure we'll be friends'."

It took unbelievable restraint to stop the wicked grin from spreading over Elsa's face. There was perhaps no greater satisfaction than likening the face and arse of an arrogant young male to that of a donkey, and him none the wiser.

"Oh, that's sweet!" laughed Miss Hayes. She got up from her seat and put her arm around Elsa's shoulder. "Please take a seat. How about, beside...Ire-?"

"Not next to Ailing Adler, Miss!" called out one of the jocks. "We don't want to retard our English friend from the beginning."

The whole class erupted into raucous laughter, save for Elsa, Hayes and 'Ailing Adler'.

A homely, brown haired girl cowered in her seat, already sitting all by herself on a two seater table. Her curly hair frizzed out from her pigtails, her brace encrusted teeth jutting over her bottom lip. Clutching her books close to her chest, the girl's face turned a bright red, almost on the verge of tears.

"Mister Davies!" screeched Miss Hayes. "How many times have I told you to treat your classmates with respect?"

Mister Davies stifled his laughter as his friends slapped him on the back. Ignoring Mister Davies' advice, Elsa sat beside the girl. The quivering female looked up momentarily and offered Elsa a sad smile.

Elsa reciprocated. She held out her hand.

"Elsa,"

A little reluctant, the girl slowly took Elsa's hand and shook it. "Irene."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I am no German, so I simply placed the words I wanted into Google Translate. I'm dreadfully sorry to any German readers who no doubt cringed and shuddered at my lack of skill.<strong>

**I would also like to thank the anonymous reviewer who left the anonymous reivew for chapter 2, I believe. Positive comments are always welcome, critical comments are just as valuable and so I thank you for that. I understand what you're saying, but rest assured that whilst Elsa's recent past has been nothing but bloody, I do not intend for her to dwell on it for longer than is required. She's lost her family, and we will spend time on that but it will not interfere too much; however, it is very important and will serve to explain certain things in the future. If you did read on, you'd see that "abuse" is/will not be a problem for Elsa, from her uncle and aunt anyway. Yes Tobias slapped her and for that you assumed that this now meant that "she's being abused by her new family" and it is a perfectly just observation. But given her brazen attitude and rudeness, and the fact that Tobias has never really dealt with children, his reaction was just that, I think; a reaction. Almost knee-jerk, if you will. Both he and his wife had been insulted and hurt, and there was simply nothing that could be said to counter it. ****I was slightly fearful that her recent past would push Elsa into the Mary-Sue category and I thank you for pointing that out for me. Now that that is cleared up, I would like to thank you once again, anonymous reviewer, for your fair comment and opinion and I hope you continue to read and critique my work! Thank you! **


	6. Loyalty

**A/N: Big thank you to LeniePixie-Aiko and S-Dawg 101. **

Chapter 6

-Loyalty-

* * *

><p>'<em>So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.'-<em>_Alfred Tennyson _

* * *

><p><em>1952-Banbury, Oxfordshire, England.<em>

Strong bitter winds tumbled through the moors, rustling everything from the highest pines to the lowest ferns. Its low, ethereal howls filled the late afternoon winter air with the quickening storm above creating an eerie atmosphere.

They hopped through the hills as quickly as they could, avoiding murky brown puddles and patches of gluttonous mud, and with the hands held over their heads playing the part of umbrella. With a mighty and thunderous roar, the dark skies opened up and unleashed a deluge of fast, heavy rain. It was not long before they were sopping.

She looked down at her feet as she ran, gasping and sputtering as the rain caught in her eyes and nose. She could hardly see where she was going, only dimly aware that he was up ahead, though her feet knew where to take her. She moved through as quickly as she possibly could, but her limbs had steadily frozen and moving them was proving to be quite laborious.

Without looking she missed her step and tripped over her own feet, falling to the ground with a shriek.

"Warren, stop!" She cried, hoping that he was not too far ahead and that he could hear her over the rain.

The boy stopped in his tracks, his face plastered with his wet golden hair and cheeks burning red from the cold.

"Where are you?" Warren called. "Elsa! What's happened?" He tredged back, wiping his hair out of his eyes.

He found her nestled in the shrubs, arms splayed out to her sides and splattered with mud. Warren fought the urge to giggle. Shaking his head, he took her hand and pulled her up, picking the leaves and twigs from her hair.

Elsa suddenly jerked out of his grip.

"What!" Warren cried.

"There's a snail on my foot!" Elsa whined, staring at her extended foot with disdain. She made a noise of disgust, her toes clenching and unclenching with revulsion.

Shaking his head, Warren got down onto his knee and examined her foot. It was an impossibly fat, particularly slimly snail, complete with a large speckled shell and long curious feelers, and with absolutely no regard to the shrieking girl to which it had attached itself to.

If Elsa hadn't had discarded her shoes as they had made their escape from Ludwig, this wouldn't have happened.

"Pull it off." ordered Elsa, arms crossed over her chest and foot still extended.

Warren recoiled. "No."

"Warren, pull it off."

Elsa placed her small hands on her hips and pouted.

"This is all_ your_ fault. So, pull it off my foot or I'll tell your father."

Now it was Warren's turn to cross his arms over his chest. "My fault? How is this my fault?"

"If you hadn't stolen Ludwig, we would never have had to run all this way. And we hadn't have had to run, I wouldn't have lost my shoes. And it is because I have no shoes that stupid thing is on my foot."

Warren shoved his hands into his pockets and examined her. She was drenched to the bone and getting wetter still. Her long, wild black hair lay flat against her back and on the sides of her face. She was breathing through her mouth, her teeth chattering violently. It didn't surprise Warren; whilst he had had the foresight to bring a jacket, Elsa was wearing nothing but a thin, cotton dress. He had insisted that she bring something warm, that the clouds were heavy with rain. But Elsa had just laughed and called him sissy.

She was only nine, but she still believed she knew the world. In all the years he had known Elsa, not once had he seen her back down from anything. Even if she was wrong or had been proven wrong, she'd simply clench her teeth and pretend not to notice.

Warren watched as her eyes widened and he knew that she was starting to doubt herself. Warren felt like hanging her on, but really, he could never do that. Not to her, not to anyone.

Bending over, Warren pinched the shell with his thumb and index finger and carefully pulled it off. A wet, suction noise followed with the creature writhing madly in Warren's grip. With a shudder, Warren flicked it into the shrubs.

"There. Was that so hard?" asked Elsa. She was holding onto herself, the hem of her dress clinging desperately to her legs. Elsa tried to smile, but she was so cold, her teeth chattering so much, she hardly could. Without thinking, Warren slipped off his jacket and placed it around Elsa's shoulders. She blinked at him.

"Put your arms through it," he instructed her.

Elsa stared, watching his angelic features. "What about you?"

Warren shrugged. "It's kept me dry and your home isn't far off from here. I'll be fine."

Taking Warren's reasoning, Elsa slipped her arms through. It certainly was dry. Almost hard to believe, if it weren't for the fact she could feel it.

He turned his back to her and crouched.

"You don't have to." Elsa said, realizing what he was doing.

"You don't have any shoes." Was all Warren said. After a moment's hesitation, Elsa climbed onto his back as he looped his arms around her legs. He steadily rose, and before long they were marching back to Elsa's home.

Not a word passed between them, the sounds of the high winds and heavy rains filling the silence. Elsa's home was just over the hill, just a couple of kilometres from his own.

For many years, Warren had many friends but Elsa had been the only one to visit. The boys at school came from all over England and lived too far apart to have play dates or sleepovers. It didn't bother Warren, not really. Elsa was his first and greatest friend.

But it bothered Warren that he had never set foot in Elsa's home, not even once or even for a moment.

Warren was still staring at his feet as they came to the front gate of Elsa's home, lost in his thoughts. Elsa tapped Warren on the shoulder.

"Warren?"

Warren snapped out of his daze. "S-sorry?"

Elsa playfully punched Warren in the shoulder and laughed. "You can let me down now."

Warren shrugged his shoulders and let her slip off.

His gaze was set upon the highest window of the two-storey cottage home. He could see someone behind the sheer lavender curtains and for a second, he was sure that he had caught that someone's eye. But as soon as he did, the mysterious other hid behind the curtain and out of view.

"Who was that?" asked Warren, pointing to the high window.

Elsa turned her head over her shoulder and looked up. She sighed. "Probably Klaus."

Poor Klaus. Fifteen years old and for only a third of his life had he roamed outside the confines of his familial home. His mutation had manifested at the tender age of five, too young to realize what was happening, too young to understand his future. It was not an invisible mutation, nor was it pretty. It did not bother him as much as a child, but as he grew older, the impact his looks had upon his social standing had dawned upon him.

His whole life he had been home schooled, forever afraid of the cruel nature of the local children. Elsa pitied not only Klaus, but herself. Not once had she been able to take his hand and run through the fields or ask him to take her to school. He couldn't come to the plays and musicals, the Christmas functions or the Easter ones. And it wasn't just herself; Bruno and Friedrich had missed out as well. Klaus was a lovely young man, with a kind heart and of good nature, whether he thought that or not.

Warren shuffled his feet. "Why…why doesn't he ever come out?"

Elsa bit her lip. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone about Klaus' condition, most especially since it could expose every single one of them. But Warren was her best friend and she knew at some stage, she'd have to tell him.

But today was not the day.

"I'll tell you one day,"

Warren smiled. He knew how skilled Elsa was at concealing the truth, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

"When we're old and crusty?" he suggested.

"When we're old, crusty and _married_." corrected Elsa, a twinkle in her eye.

Warren smiled. He and Elsa often joked like that, had loud and excited conversations about what life might be like. Where they would live, what sort of home, places they liked to visit. And all the while, Warren had no idea if any of it made sense to him. He didn't even really understanding the concept of marriage itself, what it actually meant for he and Elsa to wed.

"Elsa!"

A sharp cry shook the children out of their little world and reeled them back into reality.

Eva Muller stood at the door way, holding it out and beckoning her only daughter into the house. Eva smiled as she saw Warren, giving the boy a cheerful wave.

Warren liked the look of Mrs. Muller. She didn't seem very old, nor did she seem very young. There was a sort of aristocratic beauty about her, something drawn in and hidden. She had grown up in Banbury, but she certainly didn't look like any of the other women in the village, or the town for that matter. He liked her thick black hair and near swarthy complexion, liked the way he always felt warm and loved around her.

Warren liked to imagine his own mother must have been like Mrs. Muller, though he wouldn't know for certain; Lucinda Worthington had died at his birth. And his father hardly ever spoke of her.

"Hello Warren!" called Eva. She laughed. "You're getting drenched Warren! You should come inside!"

"Hello Mrs. Muller!" Warren waved back. Eva always asked him to come in, to sit down and have lunch or tea, but Warren always declined; it was their little routine.

He shook his head. "It's alright! Dad wants me home now anyway!"

"If you say so!" Warren could hear her smile.

Eva beckoned to Elsa once more, before turning round and disappearing into the house.

Warren turned back to Elsa. She giggled as she threw her arms around Warren, enveloping him in a bear-like hug. Though they were both stone cold and wet, for some reason, they felt warm against each other. As she pulled away, she pushed off his jacket and handed it back to him.

"Thank you." she smiled politely. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

Warren took it and held it in his hands, nodding his head as he did. He watched as Elsa walked up the cobblestone path and into the front doorway, smiling as he heard Eva demanding the whereabouts of Elsa's shoes.

He dug his hand into his left pocket of his pants and pulled out a striped red and white paper bag. He peered inside and counted all the sweets he and Elsa had stolen, the whole reason for their escapade in the first place.

Twenty.

Divided by two would be…ten.

He gave the Muller home one final glance, smiling as he did and hoping that Elsa would forget about the stolen sweets by sunrise. Popping a sugar-coated jelly mouse into his mouth, he tucked the bag back into his pocket and began his journey back home.

* * *

><p>Her eyes fluttered open, the bright sunshine flittering in and temporarily blinding her.<p>

Shielding herself with her flat palm, she sat up against the trunk of one of the oaks, resting her back against its rough, misshapen structure.

Elsa sighed.

She had been thinking of Warren again. She hadn't meant to, she never did. But whenever she closed her eyes, there he was. Hair shining as if it was made of gold itself, bright blue eyes twinkling, and a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Such a handsome young man with the world at his fingertips. And for eighteen years, Elsa had thought she was a part of that world.

Apparently not.

Elsa shuffled her hair. They had come out here to study and bask in the rare late winter sunlight. She had even brought her chemistry books with her. She had attempted to study, but sleep had tempted her.

Irene on the other hand, had given up on studying all together and was now taking pictures of the surrounding flora with a rather tattered looking camera.

Irene Adler was the first friend Elsa had made at Preston Academy and it seemed like she would be the only one. Irene was regarded as a loner, a pariah, and a weirdo by her fellow peers. As Elsa had chosen to align herself with Irene, Elsa too had been labeled all of the above. It didn't really bother her; Irene was sweet and lovely, with a charming good-nature the other girls seemed to lack. She was used to the isolation, the seclusion and the social exclusion, and rather than twist and warp her sensibilities, it had done the complete opposite.

Elsa felt at home with Irene. And it was helped by the fact that Irene too was a mutant, something Elsa had been quite surprised to have discovered. But it was not the first thing Elsa had picked up about Irene; in fact, she had not been able to pick up anything at all. Irene's mutation, however voluntary it may be, created a natural block to any telepathic intrusion Elsa attempted to ensue. And there had been several attempts. Though, on occasion, Elsa had been successful in making an intrusion, but victory was rare.

Two months.

For two months now she had been attending Preston Academy. And so far, not a single thing of extraordinary note had occurred. She had settled into her new life and day by day, her previous one began to fade. Being a mutant was not so pronounced here; she was not surrounded by so many as she had been back home. She was slowly getting used to living as the humans did, but more importantly had gotten used to the daily grind of senior life; the exams, the classes, the cliques, the up and coming prom.

Prom.

Elsa hated the word. It suited her American classmates' just fine. The syllables left their lips in a fashion that made it sound natural and normal. When Elsa said it, it sounded more like she was saying 'ohm' with a purr at the beginning. Like a cat trying to speak. So instead, she simply said 'formal'. She was ridiculed for it but at least she didn't sound like an animal saying it.

Elsa shook her head. It seemed, life was far complicated than before.

She looked to the pile of textbooks Irene had brought along for their little study session. Not one of them had been touched, all neatly on top of each other in a large rectangular pile. Elsa personally thought Irene had no interest in her education. She hardly paid attention in class, her grades were below average and yet that never seemed to faze her.

"I thought we came out here to study." Elsa asked Irene. The girl did not respond, seemingly fascinated by a particularly large gathering of moss.

"Irene?"

Irene was like this. Always one to drift off into her own world, completely oblivious to the one she was actually in. Elsa squinted her eyes, focusing all of her attention on Irene's frizzy head. '_Irene?_'

With a gasp, Irene stumbled back, falling flat on her bottom. Her camera flew to her side. Shooting Elsa a positively demonic look, she readjusted her glasses and picked herself up.

"There are better ways of grabbing my attention Elsa." she growled.

"Your mind was elsewhere!" laughed Elsa. "Pray tell, what else was I supposed to do?"

Irene crossed her arms over her near-flat chest and sneered. "How often do you read me?"

Elsa looked back to her textbook, shaking her head. "Never."

"Are you lying to me?"

_Yes._

"No."

Of course it was a completely bloody lie. When did she _not_ try to read her? But a better question was, when was she actually successful?

Satisfied with Elsa's answer, Irene plopped herself beside her new friend and pulled out an old journal from her satchel.

"I'm glad I found someone else." Irene murmured, as she scribbled away in the parchment like pages of her diary.

"You'd be surprised how many of us are out there." said Elsa, her thoughts going back to her brothers and not long ago, when she had met the drunken and disorderly James "Logan" Howlett.

She peered over Irene's shoulder, attempting to decrypt whatever it was that Irene was writing, but once again, to no avail. Not only did Irene write in English but in German as well, however, Irene was Austrian in origin. That Elsa understood. But then, Irene would go off and scribe something in Croatian, Hungarian or even Slovene, languages that were completely foreign to Elsa.

"What are you writing this time?" asked Elsa. Irene looked to her friend, her face a little puzzled. Elsa stuttered a little, "I've always seen you writing, but I've never…"

"It's a journal." said Irene matter-of-factly.

"A diary of sorts?" asked Elsa. "Like, _Dear Diary_ and all that?"

"Sort of." said Irene. She closed her journal and placed her hand over its cover. "Sometimes, when I get visions…I write them down, so I can interpret them later,"

Elsa raised an eyebrow. "It seemed quite empty to me,"

"Yes. But, more and more are coming to me. I think, the older I get the more I can see."

She paused for a moment, as if she was yearning to ask Elsa something but was afraid of any sequential consequences.

"What is it Irene?" asked Elsa, noticing her friend's twitchy stature.

"Well." began Irene uncertainly, twisting her fingers in her lap. "I mean, for ages you've promised me, ever since we first met. But you haven't…haven't…"

"Haven't what?"

Irene bit her lip. Damn the consequences. "You haven't told me about Warren. _You_ and Warren."

Elsa sighed. Though she loathed to admit it, the friendship she had formed with Irene was founded on lies. She had never told Irene the true reasons for her being here. Never told her about the fear, the hurt, the pain and the anger that hung over her ever since that night. Irene was never to know.

So, instead, Elsa made up an elaborate story of a love gone wrong, of a _Romeo and Juliet_ type scenario where she and her lover had been torn apart by their guardians and the Atlantic. And Irene was gullible enough to have believed it.

"Fine." muttered Elsa quietly. "What do you want you know?"

Irene's face lit up, her smile reaching her eyes. "Everything. From the very _beginning_."

Elsa felt like driving a knife through her ears. She had never been much of a story teller, let alone a romantic one. Klaus had been good at those. He could create tales that took one by the ears and by the heart. His words flowed effortlessly, seamless and pure. Elsa's words were more like one steam train colliding with another.

Messy and unpleasant.

But, with what little literary imagination she had, Elsa tucked her hair behind her ear and began:

"Warren and I grew up together. His father owns a _huge_ pharmaceutical company, one that's been passed down from generation to generation. My father worked under Warren's father as one of his laboratory chemists. Since I was an infant, my father often took me to work. Not to the actual labs, we were never allowed there, which is why I spent most of my time in the Worthington house. And…it was from there I guess. I met Warren and we became good friends."

Elsa smiled to herself.

"Everyone was always telling us how different we were. He had this blond hair that shone in the sun like-like gold, I suppose. Like, he had the sun permanently stuck to the back of his head; he always looked positively angelic. It didn't matter what he got up to, whatever _we _got up to, no one ever suspected him. And there I was; big black mop of hair with a face that looked like it was itching for a fight. Reckon I looked pretty demonic."

"You don't now." frowned Irene.

"You should have seen me back then." laughed Elsa. "Right little mess I was."

Irene smiled. She lay onto the grass and closed her eyes. "Go on,"

"I don't know," continued Elsa, shrugging her shoulders. "We grew up and we-" Elsa checked herself. "_I _fell in love."

She had doubted Warren loved her at all.

"So what was the problem?"

"Warren came from a long line of prestigious Worthington's. You can trace his ancestors back to the Battle of Hastings if you really wanted to, fought alongside the Normans or something. His father didn't like the idea of his employee's daughter coming into the family and quite frankly, my father didn't like that idea either. They'd grown up beside each other, but not once have I heard a positive word about Warren's father from my dad. Not once."

Irene fluttered open her eyes and propped herself on one elbow. "So they separate the two of you by sending you here?"

Elsa blushed. "Yes."

_If only… _

Irene sighed dreamily. "I wish I could have a story like that. Unrequited love and all that."

"No, no you don't." laughed Elsa bitterly. "Believe me."

"I bet he's thinking about you right now."

"I doubt it."

Irene sniffed. She seemed satisfied with Elsa's tale, if not a little deflated. After all these months of begging and pleading, the reward was incredibly insubstantial.

Irene never felt pretty herself. Never one to stop all the boys stop in their tracks or the children to smile and wave at her. She was freckly, lean and bushy haired. Elsa didn't have a face carved by angels, but beside her, Irene looked like a piglet standing beside a peacock.

Irene had poor eyesight, something she had tried to compensate with fashionable cat-eye glasses. They were essential for her every day activities, without which she claimed she could not see a thing.

She squinted a little bit and took the spectacles off her face and examined them a little before placing them back on.

"Do you need new glasses?" asked Elsa.

"I don't know if that'll fix it." said Irene. "It's not so much I _can't_ see even with my glasses on, it's these black edges that fill the corners of my vision. It's starting to come in a little bit."

"Into the centre of your eye sight?" mused Elsa.

"Yeah."

"Maybe you're going blind," laughed Elsa.

Irene smiled a little; the possibility of going blind had always frightened her. Ever since the onset of her adolescence, fears of a blind and dark adulthood plagued her. Irene could feel her heart picking up a faster pace and within seconds she was starting to perspire a little.

"You alright?" asked Elsa, noticing her friend's sudden silence.

Straightening herself, Irene checked her watch, ignoring Elsa's question.

"We should start heading back, we have chemistry next." She hastened to pick both herself and her books up, almost stumbling forward in the process. Elsa grabbed Irene's arm and steadied her. She did not let go.

"Irene, it was a just a joke." apologized Elsa. "I didn't mean to upset you,"

"No, it's alright. You didn't." replied Irene, hastily. She pulled out an elastic from her pocket and pulled her messy hair into a pony tail. Slowly, she placed her hand on Elsa's.

"What is it Irene?"

Irene smiled sadly. "I think…I think you'll see Warren again,"

Elsa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I had…" Irene perked up, suddenly completely animated, "I had this vision. You were in it. It was definitely you. But there was a boy. Tall and blond, just like you've described. But you were with other people…other, young people."

"That could have meant anything Irene." sighed Elsa.

"Yes." said Irene slowly. "But it is…something…yes?"

Elsa let out her breath noisily through her nose. Irene was a sweet girl, really she was. Her mutation was a precognitive one and so, she often entered her world of fantasy and the future. She believed in love, hope and unity. Things that had wrenched Elsa's heart out and then flung it back at her.

Warren had done that to her and she'd never forgive for him for it. Perhaps, when they were younger. But now, all she could feel was a stone cold heart against her ribs, rigid and set.

But despite all this, Elsa too hoped she'd see Warren again and that he too, felt the same.

* * *

><p>Warren Worthington stood over Tom Eastham's grave, absently but gently kicking at the fresh earth. It wasn't much of a grave, not really. There was no headstone, no markings to indicate that it was a burial site. Just a rectangular patch of upturned dirt. They had buried Tom's wife and children along him. All in one pitted grave.<p>

Warren had insisted on separate graves, headstones even. To respect these people, at the very least, in death. Lewis had flat-out refused.

Warren came here every morning. Well before his father's men woke up and well before Lewis.

He would come over and apologize, over and over again, speaking to no one but himself. Words could not express the great sorrow he felt for in his involvement in their murders.

That night, he had thrown up over and over again, washed his hands over and over again but it seemed as though the blood wouldn't come off, the stench would not leave, the guilt he could not be cleansed of.

Warren knew he was grieving for Tom and his family, but in the back of his mind he knew it was the Mullers he was really apologizing to.

They had always been like a second family, despite their distance and their seclusion. And now, every single one of them was gone. Never again would the Muller name pop up in future generations.

'_Not all of them.'_ Warren reminded himself.

Where ever she was, whatever she was doing, Warren prayed that she was safe. That she had a meal in front of her every night, a place to sleep and kindred spirits with kind hearts. He prayed-

"Warren?"

Warren knew that voice anywhere. Quickly wiping away his tears, he straightening up his clothes and anticipated his father's coming hand.

"What on earth are you doing, boy?"

Warren looked to his father.

There had been a time in Warren's life when his father towered over him, intimidated him in every sense of the word. Back then, Lewis had been a fit, athletic man. He still was, but his age was starting to get at him. And though Warren dare not say it, his sins were getting at him too.

Warren had inherited his father's golden hair, his menacing bone structure and his father's short stubby fingers. At twenty years old, Warren matched his father's height, was his spitting image. All except for his eyes which were apparently all his mother's. A source of weakness for Lewis.

Lewis stroked his bushy moustache and sighed. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"You mustn't feel bad for it, Warren."

"Feel bad for what?" stuttered Warren.

Lewis took a long puff of his cigar, holding the thick wad between his fingers. "We had to do what we did. They pose a threat to mankind, they are capable of things we are not. And with evolution comes revolution. We must remain loyal to our kin."

Warren looked to Tom's grave. He usually would not have spoken out against his father, but everything he had been holding in came spilling out. Seeing his father contradict himself so, made Warren's blood boil.

"_They _weren't our kin, Father? You practically raised them, if not only Elsa. You had her over all the time; Elsa lived in this house as much as I did. I know how much you loved them. And Tom! _Tom _was one of your best employees. You bought his children gifts for their birthdays-!"

Lewis held out a flat palm in front of his son's face, calling for immediate silence.

Warren tensed, contracting his muscles as he readied himself to take the blows he was so accustomed to. But, much to surprise, they did not come. Instead, Lewis looked to his feet. A tear falling from his eye.

"I didn't want to do it at first, you know." whispered Lewis. "I felt as if I were killing my own children, my brothers and sisters. But…but world is not a sentimental place, and thus I must not be. I'm not a doctor, or a geneticist or an anthropologist, but I do have an obligation to protect my fellow_ humans_. It's about time you realized that too."

Lewis paused for a moment. "But that's not why I came out here to see you. I'm informing you of my leaving."

Warren frowned. "Leaving? Where are you going?"

"I have unfinished business, and, you know me, son." Lewis winked. "I've always believed that you must finish what you've started. I don't know where Elsa is, my men will find out for soon. In fact, they've almost got a location. I don't expect she'll be in the country, perhaps abroad. And when we find where she is, I'll be leaving."

Warren's heart snagged against his ribs, bile rising in his throat.

Licking his dry lips, Warren turned to his father.

"Father, please, it doesn't matter. Let her go. It's not worth your time. It's not just her anyway, there are plenty of other-"

Lewis frowned, his expression practically poisonous. "You still don't feel anything towards her, do you?"

Warren blushed. "No, of course not."

"Then whatever I do, from this point forth will not rouse any questions from you. I am merely informing you of my plans, I did not ask for your opinion. You are my son, Warren, and I love you very much. I can't expect you to understand completely, not yet anyway, but I expect your loyalty in this. And if not to me, then to human kind. We have an obligation, my child, do not forget it."

Lewis patted his son twice on the shoulder, turned round and began to head back home. Through the evergreens and over the hills.

Warren watched his father from afar, his greying head slowly fading into the distance. He felt sick to the stomach. Whatever his father was planning, it wasn't going to be good.

He had let her escape so that he could give her another chance at life. To let her run, and to live. Now, it seemed as though it had all been for nothing.


	7. Fight or Flight

Chapter 7

-Fight or Flight-

Elsa stared at her reflection in the window of her seat. She felt a little disappointed; she didn't look all that different from all those months back, back in December. Elsa expected growth or maturity to show in her youthful face. She looked a little thin though, her face gaunt and taut. Skin stretched over her soft bone structure.

Which was ridiculous considering the high concentration in Marie's cooking.

She turned to Uncle. He had insisted that he drive her to school today, instead of the usual Marie. It had been a nice gesture she supposed; they hadn't spoken properly for a while now.

Tobias had lost a little weight, insisting that he join Elsa on her morning runs. Tobias had thought it was for the exercise, when really, it was just about clearing her head for Elsa.

Besides, it wasn't really exercise when she had to stop every three minutes to help her Uncle off the pavement, gasping for air.

"I haven't asked you know," said Tobias suddenly, desperate to break the silence, "How you've been doing and everything. I've been so wrapped in my work...I've completely forgotten about you,"

Elsa placed her elbow on the ledge bottom of her window and rested her chin upon her fist. "Well I'm fine,"

His hands firmly on the wheel, for a split second, Tobias looked to his niece. "So, uh, what have...what you been up to?"

"Nothin'."

"Made any friends?"

"Yeah,"

Tobias chuckled. "Name?"

"Irene," replied Elsa, taking her hands into her lap. "She was born in Austria. She wears glasses,"

"That's nice,"

"Yes,"

Tobias sucked on his teeth. He couldn't say that Elsa was the most awkward young lady he had ever met, but she certainly had the ability to make one feel like a complete idiot.

He indicated to the left and took the turn. "No one's been giving you trouble?"

"They call me 'the Pom'," said Elsa, "Is that trouble?"

Tobias laughed heartily. "No. No, they used to call me that when I was at University."

"I'm starting to forget them," Elsa said suddenly, "Every day, they get pushed further and further out of my mind. Is that bad? Am I moving on too fast?"

Tobias sighed. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, conversation always came back to that. "There's no right or wrong answer dear,"

Elsa rested her head against the head-rest, chuckling bitterly. "When do you think it'll work out for us, Uncle?"

"What do you mean?" Tobias frowned.

"For mutants," said Elsa, "When do you think it'll work out? When humans don't fear us anymore, call us freaks and weirdos and perform mass culls? Do you think it'll happen in my lifetime?"

"I don't know dear," replied Tobias solemnly and as an after thought he added, "Not all us fear you. I think what you're capable of is extraordinary,"

"I would too if it extraordinary wasn't an occupational hazard,"

"It doesn't matter what they think," said Tobias firmly, "You and every other mutant on this earth is...you're incredible. You're capable of things that we can only ever do in our dreams. We should look up to you, not down. For your diversity, your courage, your unity."

Elsa smiled sadly. Diversity she could agree with. Courage? Hardly. Unity? Even hazier. They pulled up outside the gates of Preston Academy, the car park already filled with a plethora of students.

"I've got an English test today," smiled Elsa, "Wish me luck,"

Tobias leaned in and gave his niece a quick kiss on the forehead. "Good luck dear. I'll see you after school,"

"See you,"

Elsa pushed open the door of her seat and slung her bag over her shoulder. With a final wave, she watched as her Uncle sped away, the old Country Squire chugging and spouting copious amounts of fumes. Sighing, she turned round and began to make her way to the locker bay. She did not have a scheduled class today. Not until eleven. In fact, the only reason she had turned up so early was so that she could study in the library.

That, and she had hoped to catch Irene. Elsa had not seen the girl since last Friday, over a week ago. She suspected that Irene had come down with something, a cold perhaps. But Irene could have simply stayed in the school infirmary if that was the case.

No. Something wasn't right.

Her bag a lead weight on her back, Elsa slugged up the stairs to the senior locker bay. She stood before her locker, plain and beige unlike her classmates. They had taken to decorating their lockers with pictures from magazines, dried flowers and notes (occasionally disgustingly infatuation riddled ones) from each other.

She turned the dial on her locker, her nimble fingers slipping with sweat.

39-09-19

There was the subsequent click and within milliseconds, her lock was open.

As she placed her books within her locker, Elsa looked to Irene's locker.

Something caught her eye; the lock was missing. Elsa looked around. She didn't want to look like she was attempting to steal anything from Irene's locker. Carefully, Elsa swung open the locker door.

She almost fell back in surprise.

It was barren. Completely and utterly barren. No books, no pencils, a bag, bobby pins-nothing. Just a thin layer of dust that covered everything within the locker.

Her brow furrowed, her mind completely confused, Elsa popped her head inside the locker, hoping to find even the tiniest clue.

Nothing.

"She's not in there,"

Elsa jumped back, almost knocking her head against the frame of the locker in the process.

Staring right at her, a slight cocky smile dancing on his lips and leaning against the adjacent wall, was John Milligan. He was a classmate; not a friend but certainly not an enemy either. Tall, dark haired and wiry, he came across as a lonely young man, underestimated by everyone in every field of his being. He was quiet, meek. A silent achiever who had bright and ambitious hopes for his future, at least from what Elsa had read. It surprised her really, how blank his mind was. Filled with aspirations yet completely serene. It had been neither a pleasure nor a pain to read him, just completely calm and neutral. It was as if he had the mind of an athlete, drawing in all his energy and focus, refusing to let himself up and reveal anything damaging. Unlike the other children, he had never moved to insult or ridicule Elsa and in extension, Irene. He was merely a fly on a wall. He participated, but not enough to be held responsible for anything. At first, Elsa had thought it was a try at gaining favour with the popular students. But she realised that in fact, the case was the complete opposite. He was merely choosing to fly under the radar, so he would not be bullied himself.

He was trying to blend in.

Elsa could understand that.

"Where is she?" asked Elsa, closing the locker door, "I haven't seen her for a week, maybe more." John did not move. He kept his gaze upon her, his eyes flittering all over face.

Sighing, Elsa walked up to him and repeatedly snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "Why are her things gone?"

Taking his body off the wall, John brought himself to his full height. He now towered over Elsa by a good head or so. For a moment, Elsa saw something flash in his eyes. Something beyond the emptiness she had previously observed. Something sad and remorseful, regret almost.

Elsa blinked several times; she had been staring at John for an inexcusable minute. John smiled sadly, recomposing himself, the emptiness returning to his eyes. "I don't know Müller,"

John made to move on, placing his hand on her arm to brush past her but before he could do any such thing, she stopped him.

"John, tell me. What's going on?" Elsa considered entering his mind, find out what he was hiding. But before she could, and without a word of warning, John took hold of her hand and began to drag her out of the locker bay. Elsa did not ask where they were going; apparently they were heading for the car park. John stopped at an old, Chrysler truck. It was rusting, its green paint losing its sheen. It looked like a vehicle that had been passed.

He unlocked the doors. Elsa stood at the passenger side, staring at John blankly.

John hopped into his car, opened up the passenger door and patted the seat.

"You better come with me,"

* * *

><p>They had been driving for just under six hours. Up and down highways, though barren neighbourhood streets and across borders. Through New York, then Pennsylvania, to Maryland and now Virginia. Growing up, Elsa had thought Wroxton was the biggest place in the universe. They had been driving for hours upon hours and they were still in the same country. They could have gone to France, then Germany, even Austria had they been in England.<p>

John had driven quietly, occasionally asking Elsa if she felt ok, or if she needed to stop somewhere for the toilet or to eat?

Apart from that, John hardly said a word. For the majority of the trip, Elsa had amused herself by swimming in John's mind. It wasn't much of a swim really; Elsa hardly had a firm grip on her telepathy. Ever since she was child, her telepathic powers had always been weak. No one else in the family were telepaths so there was no one to teach how to use it efficiently. But it hadn't really bothered Elsa up until now. Telepathy was such an invasive mutation and it often left her feeling intrusive and dirty. A person's mind was not for her to explore and judge and so Elsa had prided herself on her lack of knowledge. She had felt that was being respectable.

It was one of the things that made her relationship with Warren so real. Not once had she invaded his mind, delved and observed. Not once had she controlled it for her own means. But that was where she had made her mistake. Perhaps if she had read his mind earlier, she would have been in a completely different situation right now.

That was a mistake learnt, never again to be repeated.

She had learnt her lesson. No mind was safe from her skills or rather, lack of them. No mind would be left untouched, no thought left only for its possessor. She felt bad for it, but it had been proven that it was necessary.

They were heading for John's hometown, his street, his birthplace. But it was not for his purposes, to show off his home or his parents or where he leaves his bicycle in the summer. No, there was something more to it. Something Elsa was not capable of seeing.

"You're probably wondering where I'm taking you," said John suddenly, "But then again, maybe you're not,"

"Why not?" asked Elsa.

"I asked you leave school with me and hop into my truck. Been driving for six hours, we're probably in a shit load of trouble and yet, not a word of protest," John chuckled, "You don't seem worried,"

Elsa smiled. "Should I be?"

John chuckled. "You never know. I might be taking you to my secret abattoir over in Kentucky."

Elsa chuckled. The thought had crossed her mind.

"We're in Virginia, aren't we?" asked Elsa, "And, you're from Virginia. Aren't you?"

John looked at Elsa with a puzzled expression. "How did you know?"

"I saw the highway sign-"

"No, I meant….how did you know _I'm _from Virginia?"

Elsa shrugged her shoulders. "Intuition,"

Elsa looked back out of her window. They had entered a neighbourhood now. A rather poorly looking one. The houses looked as if they had been standing in their place since the dawn of the nineteen hundreds. Uncared for and barren, the dwellings looked just as empty as John's eyes. There was no green, only brown, red and yellow. As if the entire neighbour had forgotten to take care of itself.

John slowed down and stopped in front of dilapidated, one storey home. It was a typical Californian bungalow, finished with a porch and everything. The front was kept and shaved, but bore no life. A large red bicycle lay out the front on its side, the front wheel turning from the wind.

John got out of the car, motioning Elsa to follow. Elsa did as she was told, slamming the door a little hard as she did.

Elsa concentrated.

It was Irene's home.

"You brought me to Irene's?" it had been more of a thought than a verbal expression, but before she could cover up her tracks, John had heard.

Staring at her for a minute, John shook his head and laughed. "You really are intuitive. Either that, or you're a witch or something."

Witch. That was fine, been called worse.

John slipped his arms through his blazer, turning up the collar like the boys did back home. His curls fell onto his forehead, a hairstyle very much Tony Curtis noir.

Lagging behind him, Elsa followed John up the steps and to the front door. John knocked twice, the door emitting a harsh creaking noise. Elsa strained her ears. She could hear people talking, faintly in German but not loud enough for her to understand. They could hear heavy footsteps, masculine most likely.

The latch of the door clicked and instantly, the door swung open, almost knocking John over in the process.

It was almost instant really, the strong stench of freshly baked pumpernickel and Korn entering Elsa's nostrils. It reminded her of her grandparents' house, when they visited Germany every year.

A short, plump figure appeared at the door. It was a man. Stunted and a chubby, with inflamed skin and large bottle bottom glasses. His thinning grey hair lay flat on his shiny skull, a large bushy moustache dancing on his lip. He didn't seem to have noticed Elsa, in fact, all his attention was on John. The man looked fearful, as if he was anticipating John to jump at his neck any second now.

"John," the man said hoarsely, a thick German accent affecting the clarity of his speech, "John. We are sorry. I get, I get money to you soon. Is hard, is hard. Irene is hurting, is hard to get the-"

John held up his hand, a sympathetic smile on his face. "It's alright Hans, I haven't come here to collect rent."

Hans subsequently sighed, completely relieved by the news. For a brief moment, the fear and worry in his eyes left, only to be replaced by a deep sadness. He looked to Elsa, then back to John.

"Why you here John?" asked Hans.

"We're here to see Irene," said John simply.

"I'm sorry we are not-"

"We're friends of Irene's," butted in Elsa.

"Friends?" laughed Hans bitterly, "She has not friend since little girl,"

Elsa and John looked to each other, not sure what to do or say. Had they driven six hours for nothing?

Elsa squinted; she could hear something from within the walls.

"Papa? It's ok, let them in,"

Hans looked to Elsa and John, looking like he had aged about ten years. He twitched his nose. He seemed hesitant, reluctant even. But, after several minutes, Hans stood to the side and outstretched his arm, motioning for Elsa and John to enter his home.

John allowed Elsa to enter before him, muttering "ladies first".

Elsa didn't like the atmosphere. Eerie and quiet. They entered the living room, a cramped and desolate affair. It looked as though someone had attempted to shove everything into the tiny room, from a small black and white television, to a set of peach chairs and coaches. A quiet fire blazed in the corner, odd considering it wasn't a cold day.

Elsa could see a figure slumped in one of the chairs, in an upright position. She couldn't see their feet, only the ends of a purple blanket falling off the edge of the seat. Elsa looked back to John and was surprised to see him hanging back at the living room entrance. He was staring at his feet, his posture swaying.

Her arms crossed over her chest, Elsa edged closer.

Elsa's heart stopped beating.

"My god,"

Irene was sitting on the chair, her arms at her sides, an empty bowl of soup on her lap. But it was not the dirty bowl or the ragged blanket that made Elsa stumble back, it was Irene herself. It was like something out of a horror film, a novel perhaps but this...this was beyond Elsa had ever heard of.

Where Elsa would have normally found Irene's blue and exuberant eyes, now was nothing but two large patches of scarred and stretched skin. Her eyeballs were gone, the shape of her sockets quite obvious against the damaged tissue. It blazed red in places, ghostly white in others, a shock of unsightly colours. It reminded Elsa of little Evelyn Finch. When the girl was about fours years of age, she had accidently tipped a large pot of boiling water over herself. What was left Elsa hardly recognized as human. Evelyn's poor little body was a mess of bubbles, burnt tissue and blood. The skin had twisted and turned, stretching and sagging.

Elsa fell at Irene's feet, clasping Irene's delicate hands into hers. Within seconds, Elsa found tears welling at her eyes. She struggled for words.

"Irene, I..."

Irene's mouth formed a smile, turning her head in Elsa's direction.

"Does it look horrible?" Irene asked. Elsa didn't say anything. Of course it looked horrible.

Irene turned her head a little. "Who else is here?"

"J-John Sangster," Elsa answered. She felt dazed and confused, unable to steady her mind. "Irene, what happened? How did I not know about this? When did-?"

Irene clutched Elsa's hand, holding it in an iron grip. She smiled. "Calm down Elsa. Can't you just read my mind?"

Tears fell from her eyes. "I want to hear it from you," Elsa said scornfully.

Irene sighed, her smile fading. She shifted her body into a more comfortable position and turned her head to John's direction. "John, would you mind-?"

"What?" asked John, taking his weight off the wall.

She raised her hand and pointed at a small gramophone, tucked in the corner of the room. "The record player,"

John rushed to the gramophone, fumbling with it for a little bit, until he finally placed the needle. Elsa recognized the noise immediately; La Vien en rose. Her mother had constantly played it when she was a child, its soft tones and soothing notes ringing throughout the house.

Elsa could hear movement from the kitchen and watched as a plump middle-aged woman emerged. She was wearing a floral printed apron, a little ill fitting and yet covered in brown and yellow stains. Her hands were covered in flour, a wooden spoon in left hand.

She seemed to be crying.

John planted himself in the chair opposite Irene, leaning his weight over the edge. His hands were clasped together and he seemed to be rocking.

Elsa closed her eyes, then opened them again. "Irene, _please_."

Irene licked her lips, sighing as she whipped her head from side to side. Finally, after a period of time that seemed platonic to Elsa, Irene spoke.

"It was about a week or so ago. You hadn't been there that day; I think it was your Aunt's birthday. After school, I thought I would go down to the Diner for a milk shake or something. I would have asked you, but I didn't want to bother you," She paused for a moment, "The normal route, it was blocked because they were fixing the roads or something so I had to go a different way. It was a bit of a back alley.

I don't know where they came from; all I remember is about five or so guys jumping out of the shadows. The next thing I know, my eyes are burning, I can't see a thing. It hurt so much I passed out. When I woke up, I was in hospital. I wanted to call, but, I didn't know your number."

Elsa sat quietly, desperately trying to absorb all this information. She felt sick to the stomach; any second now and she might throw up. Elsa looked to John but received nothing of solace. He just sat there, arms crossed, head down as if he was shutting out the entire world.

As Elsa looked up, the woman from the kitchen was standing before her. She had the look of someone kindly and sweet, the type who helped out everyone simply because she wanted to. But now, her face was reddening, her nostrils flaring, her spoon held out threateningly at Elsa.

"You..." she quivered, "If you her friend, why you were not with her?"

"Mother please," pleaded Irene, "she was busy,"

"No!" cried Irene's mother, throwing her hands into the air, "My daughter...my baba...she is...she is..." She would have fallen to the ground, if Hans had appeared apparently out of nowhere and caught. He held his wife his arms, muttering soothing words in German and he took her into the kitchen.

Elsa felt like throwing her hands up into the air herself.

"Irene, I'm so sorry," said Elsa quietly.

"What can you do?" smiled Irene, shrugging her shoulders.

Elsa looked to John. "How did you know?"

"He lives next door," explained Irene, "And his father is our landlord. News spreads like wildfire around these parts." Irene scratched her ear. "You brought her here?"

"Yeah," replied John.

"Thank you,"

It astounded Elsa, how Irene was still able to distinguish voices from directions and directions from voices. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

The atmosphere had calmed down a little, enough to keep everyone at ease. Not enough for Elsa's questions to stop hurling like missiles.

"You have no idea who did this to you?" asked Elsa.

"No,"

"Let me...let me read you mind," suggested Elsa, "Maybe I can see who did it?"

"I can't remember myself," laughed Irene, "how will _you _be able to see?"

"I could try."

"It's alright Elsa,"

"It's not," spat Elsa, shaking her head, "It's not."

Irene groaned a little, jerking a little. Her mouth formed a little 'o' as she let out a silent wail. Hans appeared from the shadows and motioned to Elsa and John.

"You should go now. Pain is in her. You go now. Go,"

John stood up, giving Hans a curt nod. He held out his hand to Elsa.

"No..." Elsa shook her head, backing away from John.

"Come on Elsa," pleaded John. Elsa shook her head once more, her arms crossed over her chest. Aware he was faced with a mule, John grabbed Elsa by the arm and did not let go.

"No. John, get off-"

"Elsa, we have to go,"

"No,"

"Elsa..."

His hand still clutching her arm, John practically dragged Elsa out of the living room and down the hallway, Irene's groans and her father's soothing voice following. With a gentle shove, John pushed Elsa out of the home.

Elsa's mind was reeling. Images flashing before her eyes, words ringing in her ears.

John watched her, both fascinated and compassionate. He advanced towards her, turning her towards him. She had one arm tucked around her waist, the other running through her hand. She looked a mess, in all honesty. And yet, despite her snotty appearance, it struck John that she was pretty.

"Why did you bring me here?" asked Elsa, "Why?"

"I couldn't sit here, knowing, watching you run around like an idiot wondering where she was," said John.

He smiled.

"All this talk of reading minds; you're like her aren't you?" John said, "You're different,"

Elsa began to sob.

John felt out of place. He was an only child, the closest he had ever gotten to a girl was Mindy the family dog and here he was with a pretty young woman, crying her eyes out.

"Hey, it's alright," soothed John, "It's-AH! Son of a _bitch!_"

Elsa, despite her frail and broken appearance, had landed a sharp slap across John's face. Her hand had found its mark, his skin already reddening.

John held his face, checking to see if he was bleeding or not.

"What was that for?" shrieked John.

Sniffing, Elsa threw her hands up into the air and screamed for the entire world to hear. "I don't know God damnit!"

John stared at her blankly, his hand still on his face. Though his cheek stung like a bugger, he understood Elsa's place. Sometimes, words could express how angry or down one was and only a physical outlet to convey such heightened emotion.

John sighed. "We'll go over to my place, call your family and tell them where you are,"

Elsa sniffled, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her school shirt. Tobias and Marie wouldn't be happy. She had essentially skipped school for the entire with a day, with a boy she hardly knew and driven half way across the country in a truck. But, she supposed she had to call them. If she explained the situation, she was sure they'd understand. Tobias and Marie weren't like her parents; they were a little more lenient, willing to bend her way if she pleaded correctly.

As they crossed the street to John's home (a far more stately and impressive abode one might add), Elsa looked back to Irene's dwelling. So much had happened in the last few months and quite frankly, her life was beginning to sound more like a novel or a tall tale. Perhaps, nineteen sixty-two was the year of change, of upheaval and disarray. Whatever this was, Elsa hoped for a resolution.

* * *

><p>It had taken a while, but compared her trip to Virginia, it was stroll. Irene's street was the final dropout of the route and once again, Elsa was the last to leave.<p>

She could still feel the sweat on her bottom, sticking her dress to her. She was sure her bottom was in fact wet, that her dress would have a large, sweaty patch. This was why she hated leather seats. Especially on hot days. Everything stuck and swished and it felt like she had sat on a boiler. She quietly swore to herself, wishing she had taken Marie's offer to be driven.

But no, she had decided to be a mule and take a bus to Virginia. The bus itself was not the problem, in fact she quiet liked it. A Greyhound Silversides bus that was painted in a striking sky blue. They were quite different from the buses she was used to back home; AEC Routemasters. Tall, red impressive things who's top deck was constantly sought after by teenage groups. Silversides were more public, everyone on the same level. It left Elsa feeling a little exposed.

When she had arrived at the Richmond Bus Depot, it wasn't as busy as she thought it would be. But then again, her time of arrival had been nine in the morning. Elsa had woken up at five, eager to take the six o'clock bus.

This wasn't like before; her aunt and uncle knew where she was, or rather, where she was going. When she had gotten home from her little trip with John Sangster, her guardians had been more than a little infuriated. Claiming that her disappearing acts were becoming a common occurrence. But once she had explained the situation, they understood completely. In fact, it was they who suggested she visit Irene today. Tobias could not come along; he was absolutely swamped at work and Marie was too busy organizing the annual gala at her Rotary Club.

So it was just Elsa today.

She tugged at the hem of her dress. It was most unlike the fashion at the moment. Girls wore short skirts and dresses, with hem lines that often left nothing to the imagination; Elsa looked like a nun compared to them.

She felt a little justified though; her arms were exposed.

For the best part of fifteen minutes, Elsa had pranced around the bus depot looking for a route that would take her to Irene's. She looked like an absolute idiot, moving from sector to sector, sometimes twice to the same one.

Finally, she had found the Route 656 Bus which would take her straight to Irene's house, or at least, a few kilometres away.

Brookman Road looked no different to when Elsa had last visited it, not eight days ago. It was still barren and quiet, no movement and certainly no sign of life. There was no official sidewalk; she had to walk along the edge of the road. She took in her surroundings a little more carefully than she had the first time. She wasn't wrong when she thought it barren, but not barren of earth. Barren of people was the honest way of putting it.

Elsa frowned. Something didn't feel quite right. She strode over to the porch steps, twisting her fingers nervously. There seemed to be no one around. From what she could remember, Irene and her family didn't have a vehicle so it was impossible to tell if the Adler's were simply not home at this present moment. Elsa stood at the front door, ready to knock on its wooden body.

But then, something caught her eye; the windows were boarded up.

It wasn't a neat and careful job. The long planks of woods were splitting and splintering, damp in some places from rot. They had been nailed with monkey-sharp precision, with no regard for cosmetic appearance.

She felt a lump in her stomach. Surely they hadn't picked up and left? Where would they go? What were they going to do?

For a moment, Elsa flared with anger. Why was she always the last to know, the last to be informed of anything important? How could Irene simply get up and leave?

As soon as she had thought it, she regretted immediately. This was hardly Irene's fault, the crime was committed against her not by her. It was not long ago when Elsa had pondered if the vilification of her kind would ever cease. This was no assurance. Hiding was the only option.

It was strange really, the emptiness she felt. There was no pain, no feeling. Just empty.

Elsa sat upon the porch steps and sighed. She pulled out her sandwich from her bag. She had been in a rush this morning and in her haste, she had chucked anything she could into her sandwich.

Peanut butter and potato chips.

'_Nice one, Elsa.'_

From the distance, she could hear a quite rumbling. Like a motor vehicle. Feeling like she had every right, she stared down vehicle as it approached Irene's former residence. It halted to a stop on the dry front yard, its engine turning off cleanly and smoothly. Unlike Tobia's Squire, which sputtered and choked like it had come down with the flu.

Brushing off the crumbs off her dress, Elsa stood up, securitizing its occupants with distaste. She hardly knew who they were, but, out of instinct she felt obliged to dislike them.

Two men hopped out of the car. One clad in a freshly-pressed blazer, with a crisp shirt beneath. His dark hair rested gracefully over his head, a little aristocratic, a reassuringly smile on his clean-shaven face. The other man looked a little less groomed. All broody and solemn in his turtle neck and dark maroon jacket; who looked like a man with drive, an agenda, motive. He seemed the quiet type, perhaps feeling a little out of place by his gentleman of a friend.

"Good afternoon, Elsa Müller," said the clean shaven one, "My name is-"

"Charles Xavier," Elsa finished for him, her voice a little scornful. She turned to broody comrade, her eyes meeting his. "And you're Erik Lensherr."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: BAH! another chapter done and dusted. I apologize for it's horridious length! i got carrried away...very carried away. Once again, thanks so much to LizziePikie-Aiko and to LaLa-036. S-Dwag101 i've already thanked you. Ah, i feel this chapter brings down my skills as a writer by about 99 points, but what did you think?<strong>

**Also, i'd really appreciate any beta-readers; i feel that my grammar and spelling is just...just no.**

**Anyway, read, enjoy and review!**


	8. Division X:Part 1

Chapter 8

-Division X: Part 1-

-_3 Hours Earlier_-

Charles tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of his door, humming quietly to himself. The day had been going well so far; four mutants already recruited, only one left to go. Soon, they'd have their team up and running. Soon, everything would fall into place.

Charles could feel his heart fluttering a little; he still got a little bit nervous when he met new people. Professor or not, his nerves still got to him just like everyone else. It was a part of him that Charles hid well. People often thought, upon meeting him, that he was an extroverted socialite, capable of charming a crowd with his smooth and intelligent words. The truth was he still got jittery. Life was something to be jittery about and Charles was living his just like anyone else.

They hit an unexpected bump in the road, causing both Erik and Charles to jolt in their seats. Charles couldn't say he had enjoyed the road trip so far; Erik was a reckless driver. He had absolutely no regard for the road laws and with excuses like 'the road was clear' or 'no one comes down here, therefore I may accelerate this car at excessive speeds that any normal person would not attempt', that disregard was blatant. Charles didn't like to think himself a nervous or jumpy bloke, but with Erik's hands on the wheel, the little girl inside him would come out and scream to STOP THE CAR, YOU'LL KILL US BOTH!

His eyes completely on the road (a rare moment one might add), Erik asked.

"Where will we find her?"

"She's heading to an address in Virginia," replied Charles, "Hopefully we'll catch her before she returns home."

Erik nodded. This particular mutant had been the most difficult to find. She jumped about the place a lot, or rather, jumped borders a lot.

He sniffed. "You're not aware of her mutation?"

Erik himself was surprised at his own question. He had not known Charles for too long, but he knew that his comrade was brilliant and to think that he did not have a firm grasp on something made Erik giggle a little.

"I am, partially," Charles explained elegantly, "She's a telepath, of that I am certain. But there's...there's something else. She's harbouring another mutation, perhaps a secondary mutation. I-I'm not able to see it."

Erik scrunched his brow, wondering why they had not had this conversation a few hours earlier.

"Why not?"

"Well there's every possibility that, like most telepaths, she's created a mental block for sections of her mind she does not wish intrusion upon," said Charles, "It's also possible that her thoughts of it have decreased so much to the point where she does not think about it at all. Therefore access to it is limited. Or, perhaps, she's simply not proud of it."

"Not proud of it?" scoffed Erik, "She's a mutant; what's _not_ to be proud of?"

"It's not always as simple as that Erik," chuckled Charles.

"Says the Professor of Genetics with the invisible mutation," remarked Erik, "What else do you know?"

"She suffers from back problems," said Charles, rifling through his papers, "Ever since her adolescence."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It might not, but it is something prominent, otherwise I wouldn't have picked it up. Maybe it has something to do with this unknown mutation of hers. Well, when I say unknown, I mean unknown to us." Charles shifted in his seat. "I must say though, I do feel slightly uncomfortable of recruiting such a young mutant. Pulling her out of school...if she agrees to this, it could have serious ramifications on her educational future."

Erik laughed to himself. In a time like this, of change and upheaval, Charles was sweating over grades and university applications. It was to be expected, Charles was a precise man with eye for detail. For Erik, the purpose came first, then the specifics.

Erik took one hand off the wheel and rested it at his side. He looked to Charles and smiled coyly.

"Not all of us can aim to be as accomplished as you, Charles. We mere mortals have to do the best we can with what we have."

* * *

><p>-<em>Present Time<em>-

Elsa shifted uncomfortably. The pain in her back was increasing in its severity, more so today than anything else. For a short period of her life, the pains had stopped completely and there were moments in time when she had forgotten that she was a mutant. But recently, the pains had come back and now she could remember just how painful they had been.

She eyed Charles and Erik with suspicion. Charles was a telepath, which made it difficult to read him; he seemed to be a powerful mutant, far more skilled at what he did than her. Erik was something else. He could control metals, in any form. A powerful, yet dangerous mutation.

Elsa would kill to be as impressive as that.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she repeated.

"As a matter of fact, there is," said Erik.

"Well let's make it quick shall we?" said Elsa, "I have a bus to catch," Elsa knew was being very rude, but quite frankly, social niceties were not on her agenda at the moment.

"That's alright," said Erik flatly, "we can take you home once we're done,"

Charles took his hands out of his pockets and held them together, his eyes completely on Elsa.

"We're near the completion of recruiting for a covert mission under the CIA. A mutant _only_ division."

Elsa laughed. "And the humans are okay with that?"

"For now," smirked Erik.

"We'd like to offer you an opportunity," continued Charles, ignoring Erik's remark, "A chance to be part of something big, potentially-"

"No. No. I mean-thanks, but no thanks," said Elsa. She got to her feet and brushed herself off. She noticed the puzzled looks on Charles' and Erik's faces.

"Recruitment?" she scoffed, "By the CIA? Working for the CIA means working for the government, which is governed by humans. That means working for the CIA, means working for the humans and _that_ is something that I am not willing to do. So thanks for considering me, but...I've got school tomorrow, so..."

Elsa walked back to the porch and picked up her bag. The idea had been tempting she'll not lie about that, but her heart wasn't in it. She brushed past Charles and Erik and made her way to the main road. The bus stop was only about a kilometre away, it wouldn't take her long to-

"They had to leave Elsa. They had no other choice,"

Elsa stopped in her tracks, her back to the two men. She bit her lip as she turned round.

"Who?" she asked, but quite frankly, she already knew the answer.

"Irene," said Charles, edging towards her, "They had to leave. It was their only means of escape. Society rejected her and her family because they don't know. They don't know how stable everything can be."

Elsa remained quiet, very aware that Charles was getting close and closer.

"You know what it's like to run," said Charles, "You know the sorrow you feel when you realised the world has turned its back on you. You can change that Elsa, you can make sure no other after you will ever have to feel like that again."

Elsa felt like she had a million things to say, arguments and questions, but they were all jumbled up in her head and were struggling to leave her mouth.

"You're not just a telepath are you?" smiled Erik.

'_Of course I am' _she wanted to say.

"No,"

Erik walked closer, hands in pockets, eyes on her. Now, he was standing beside Charles. Elsa felt like she was being bullied.

"It's alright," said Charles, "you can show off."

Charles and Erik were a curious pair, almost equals. Charles was upfront and polite, a real gentleman. Erik seemed withdrawn and reclusive, a heavily guarded fortress.

Elsa could feel her heart beating faster, her breathing quickening.

She didn't want to do this, but something inside made her drop her bag at her side and slip off her grey cardigan. Instantly, she could feel the cold breeze on her bare arms and back. She could kick herself for her decision to wear a halter dress today, the kind that exposed the back completely . If she hadn't, she could have used her apparel as an excuse not to do it.

She closed her eyes and within seconds the deed was done.

Charles and Erik almost stumbled back. One second there Elsa was, standing with her bare back to them. The next, a pair of large feathered wings had emerged out in the open air. They were absolutely enormous, spanning well over several feet. Charles could see the bone at the joints, round and darkened to a grey hue, the veins pushing against the taut skin. At the base, closest to her shoulder blades, were small clustered feathers and as they grew out to the tips, the feathers became longer and more spaced out. It was beautiful really, to see the difference in shades; a deep golden brown at the base, to off-white at the tips.

Elsa turned back round, her wings folding into a downward angle position.

"Incredible," Charles muttered, chuckling a little.

"And they...they're from your body?" asked Erik. He was impressed, but unlike Charles, he knew not to voice it.

"No," said Elsa quietly, "They're not part of it as such. They're meant to be external, you know, like a bird. But walking around with two great wings sticking out of your back frightens the humans, so...so I keep them in."

"How long do they span?" asked Charles.

"I don't know,"

For a moment, the trio simply stood silently in a triangle. Elsa bit her lip, wondering if she should force her wings back in. But...but it felt so _good_ to have them out. She felt a kind of freedom she hadn't felt in a long while. She could feel the wind ruffling the feathers, the long bony structure stretching out and flexing.

She had to admit; there couldn't have a more perfect place to expose her wings. It was so quiet, one could have been forgiven for thinking it was a ghost town.

Charles strolled over and placed a hand on her shoulder. He smiled. "This isn't just about us. It's about the humans as well. We have the chance to make things permanently steady between our two races. We've recruited others like you, exceptional young people and I know you will make a great contribution to this. You have the chance to make a difference."

Still smiling, Charles tapped Elsa twice on the shoulder and excused himself for a moment.

Erik watched Charles before turning back to Elsa. He could see in her eyes that she was still a little unsure, a little hesitant. He walked up to her and stared right into her eyes.

"If it'll make it any easier, forget the humans," said Erik, his voice as smooth as silk, "This is the chance to make a difference for _mutants_,"

* * *

><p>Elsa felt more than a little uncomfortable. She was sitting in the back seat of Charles and Erik's car, watching their heads from behind. Elsa couldn't believe that she had actually agreed to let them take her home. She hardly knew these two; she didn't know what they were capable of. But something had made her hop in with agreement and with no questions. The same thing that had unsheathed her wings not long ago.<p>

She had deliberately disobeyed Charles' order to put on her seatbelt, but when Erik had turned around and winked, Elsa felt reassured.

She pulled her cardigan tightly around herself.

"I don't know about all this," she said, "I have-I have to ask my aunt and uncle. I can't just set off without telling them."

"That's fine," said Erik, turning in his seat.

"Eyes on the road Erik,"

"They_ are_ Charles. We'll come inside and explain everything."

With Charles scowling, Erik turned around and gave Elsa a quick wink. Like that was supposed to make her feel better.

* * *

><p>Erik stood still, regretting that he had quietly declined to sit. This had gone for a little longer than he had expected.<p>

He observed the situation quietly, figuring that he'd only intervene if needed. Charles seemed to be doing a good job so far and it seemed that the girl's guardians were sympathetic to mutants. Even if they themselves were humans.

It was pleasant home. Typical, but pleasant. No photos of the girl though, not any recent ones anyway. Erik concluded that her immigration to the country had been recent. Much like his own.

The uncle, Tobias, was sitting in a large armchair, leaning forward as he listened politely to Charles' words. Finally, he sat back and drew in a breath.

"So, this-this Shaw gentleman," began Tobias, "…is he a mutant?"

"Of sorts," said Charles, "All we really know right now is that he's working with Russians, spark some sort of nuclear war. If we, as mutants, can help avert that…well, it's a chance for mutants to come out of hiding and become an accepted part of society."

Charles closed his statement with a smile. Really, he knew he needn't have gone to all the trouble. He simply could have manipulated their minds to get them to agree, but the girl was a telepath. Albeit a weak one, but a telepath nonetheless. He didn't want to risk getting off on the wrong foot with her.

Tobias was in deep thought, clearly evident with his scrunched brow and pouted lips.

"I understand," he said finally, "Is it alright if I speak with my family alone?"

"Of course," Charles nodded. He stood up and with Erik and waited at the foot of the stairs. Tobias closed the sliding door, cutting off the two mutants.

"How do you feel about this?"

Elsa shrugged her shoulders, her confusion genuine. "I think it'll be...I don't know,"

"Can you trust them?" Tobias asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Neither has lied to me. To us. So far anyway,"

Tobias looked conflicted, completely unsure. He ran his hands over his face.

"I didn't pull you out of a war zone just so I can push you into another one," he muttered quietly.

Elsa stood up, walking over to her Uncle. She placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled reassuringly. "You're not pushing me, you're not forcing me Uncle. If you don't want me to go I'll stay."

"I think it'll be good." Marie suddenly said. She was sitting on the arm of the sofa, her lean legs crossed as her hands lay in her lap. She gave her husband and niece a broad smile. "Aside from the whole world saving thing, it's your chance to meet others like you. Other mutants. Maybe it'll be good for you."

Elsa was thankful for Marie, she really was. It made her feel terrible for her behaviour, the first couple of weeks. Not once had Marie's faith in Elsa wavered, not once did she doubt the girl. It was almost like having a mother again, a far more hip and liberal mother.

Marie got off the armrest and gave Elsa a tight hug, still holding as she pulled away. Tobias knew Marie wanted the best for Elsa and so did he, but this…this was so risky. Dangerous. It was too hazardous, it was…

Tobias smiled to himself. This was probably why all the girls went for Dieter when they were young. Tobias had always been too serious for his age, too old. Dieter was always care free and happy-go-lucky. Tobias had always been the old fart.

Perhaps it was time to embrace a far more liberal side.

Tobias gave his niece a tight hug, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Just don't get into too much trouble," he smiled.

* * *

><p>It was funny. It seemed only yesterday that she had unpacked her bags and hung her clothes in her moth ball ridden wardrobe. Now her suitcase was at her feet again, ready to travel with her. Like a faithful pet or perhaps a servant. But she wasn't going back home, she wasn't returning from a holiday or a school exchange ready to tell anyone who'd listen about her glorious advantages.<p>

No. Not today. Not ever again.

Where she was travelling, she literally had no idea. All she knew was that this was going to be a turning point in her life.

A moment of pivotal and absolute change.

She gave her guardians a tight hug, grabbing them both into an embrace.

"I'll write," said Elsa, almost shedding a tear, "all the time I promise,"

"Actually, you won't be able to write," interjected Erik, almost chucking Elsa's suitcase into the boot, "The Division's location is meant to be secret. They'll have no address to write to,"

"You might be able to call though," said Charles kindly, "I can try and get one of the agents working with us to give you a card or something. A general number for the facility. I suppose that'll mean we'll be in contact again."

"Regardless," Marie smiled, "We'll always be thinking of you,"

"She's in safe hands, Mrs Muller," reassured Erik.

He bade Tobias and Marie a good day and headed to the driver's seat. Charles too wished the Muller elders a good day and strolled to the car. Elsa stood where she was.

She wasn't sure if she should be gloomy, or glad, inquisitive or a strange combination of all three. Her stomach was in knots and if they hadn't been in the open, Elsa was sure she would have curled into the foetal position. She felt like she was abandoning her aunt and uncle, throwing them away after she had used them.

Like a snot ridden tissue.

She wasn't sure when she'd see them or even hear from them again. If at all.

This was the moment in the films where the principal characters were to separate and continue on separate journeys. They'd have all the right words to say, everything precise and perfect. They were to part ways but somehow, they'd meet again.

In the end, all Elsa managed to say was, "See you soon."

In the days, the weeks and the months that would follow, Elsa would wonder if these were the right words, if she should have said something different.

But she was in the present, the past had been done and there was no other way but forward. And as she sped away to her new present, her new life of sorts, Elsa wondered if this had been the right decision at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Pwoar. 8 chapters. Certainly something, eh? Tell me, is this still interesting? Was it interesting to begin with? Your thoughts?<strong>

**This chapter originally totalled 8,000 words, but obviously that is quite long so I've split it into two chapters. We'll be meeting Alex Summers very, very soon. **

**Once again, thanks so much to LeniePikie-Aiko (as always you star!) and to angel2u. And in response to CountryObsessedTeen, I didn't actually name Irene after the Irene from Sherlock/Holmes/Sherlock Holmes (you know what I mean!). If you search Irene Adler in google with the word 'marvel' after it, you'll see that Irene in this story is actually a real character from the X-Men universe! I did change Irene's biographpical history though. A lot. Acutally, that's an understatement, but yeah, Irene Adler is a mutant! **

**Also, I'd really appreciate any Beta readers! **

**Read, enjoy and review!**


	9. Division X:Part 2

Chapter 9

-Division X: Part 2-

They arrived at Division X, a large complex of square and glass. It looked quite ominous, really, if one stumbled upon it and did not know what the complex represented. The only thing that made Division X the slightest bit welcoming were the sleek hedges out front. But even that looked calculated and precise.

Elsa plucked disappointedly at her wrap around coat. All the models seemed to pull it off effortlessly, pretty and poised no matter what angle. She had pinned her hair and actually made an effort to wash her face. She knew she was meeting others; she had tried to make herself presentable. Emphasis on the word 'tried'.

Elsa felt a hand clasp her shoulder.

"This way," smiled Charles.

Elsa stared with curiosity. She had never entered a government facility. She had always expected dark, grey hues and large steel structures. She wasn't proven otherwise.

As they traversed through the various corridors and hallways, all Elsa saw were grey, almost white walls. Barren and deprived of colour and change. Everything in this facility was purely there for function. Nothing frilly and distracting; straight forward and to the point.

No distractions.

The trio came to a pair of great double doors. It supported two frosted glass panels, making it impossible to see through them.

"Charles!"

Charles, Erik and Elsa turned around. A woman was standing not far from them, several metres away. Her sleek auburn hair fell to her shoulders and her pretty face was clear from rogue pieces of hair and excessive make up. But that was where her femineity ended. She was clad in a formal suit jacket and skirt, black stockings and a cream waistcoat. She probably worked in the CIA, hence the masculine taste of her clothing.

She waved to Charles and beckoned him over.

"Uh, excuse me a moment," muttered Charles, before running over to the woman.

Elsa was left with Erik, feeling more and more belittled by the second. Erik stood tall and composed, unfazed by anything, completely in his own.

She bit her lip, unsure as to whether what she was about to ask was appropriate or not.

"You survived the Holocaust?"

Erik chuckled bitterly. "Is that a question or a statement?"

"Both,"

"Yes I did," he sighed, "I saw humanity at its worst I'm afraid."

"I think I can relate," Elsa said quietly.

"I doubt you were old enough to remember,"

"You needn't have survived genocide to know that Man is cruel."

Erik looked at Elsa, quietly intrigued. She seemed knowledgeable, for someone so young. There was a lot Charles knew about her, information he had not, or rather, would not disclose to Erik. At least not yet.

"You're German," Elsa said suddenly.

"You really need to sort your questions from your statements," replied Erik coolly, offering a small smile.

"That was a statement,"

"What gave me away? The name? Or did you simply read me?" asked Erik.

"It was a combination. That's two things we have in common," She held up two fingers and wiggled them a bit. For some reason, she wanted his approval. And for some reason, no matter how pathetic she felt for it, she felt safe around him. Perhaps it was his height, his cool disdain or a combination all of those things. What she wanted to make sure of was that she didn't feel like a fart cloud to him; constantly trailing behind.

Erik shook his head and though he had looked away, Elsa had seen his smile. Elsa turned as Charles trotted back.

Charles clasped his hands together and chuckled. "Sorry about that. Come, we'll introduce you to the others."

With a single push, the double doors swung open.

Elsa was pleasantly surprised. A pin ball machine in one corner, a record player in the other. A smart, red fridge with a small dining table in the middle. It was most unlike the rest of the division. For an amusing moment, Elsa was reminded of the dentists' office. The waiting room was always decked with story books, toys and games, as a distraction to the fearful children who would soon sit in the dentist's high chair. Fatten them up and then eat them.

Elsa tugged at her clothes, feeling sweat collecting on her palms. She spotted six individuals seated in the sitting area in front of a large, rectangular glass panel; two females, four males.

So these must be the other 'exceptional young people'.

They were laughing and chatting amiably, clearing already acquainted.

Erik cleared his throat and instantly the noise died down. "Everyone?"

The youths turned in their seats.

"Charles, you're back," smiled one of the girls, pretty and blonde. She snapped her fingers and smiled at the others. "Damn! We were thinking of having some fun today!"

"Thank you, Raven. I feel so appreciated." Charles chuckled, "Now, this is Elsa. Our last recruit. Your new team-mate. Please make her feel welcome,"

Charles gave her a final smile and Erik a final pat on the back.

Elsa felt like screaming 'don't leave me! hold my hand!' as Charles and Erik left. She turned back to her new group and instantly she was reminded of her first day at Preston Academy. Stripped bare and exposed for the whole world to see.

"Hello," said Elsa quietly.

"Hello," they all replied uniformly. A couple of them broke into giggles. Namely the red haired boy on the single seat and the tiny girl with the dark hair.

"Well don't just stand there, sit!" said the girl named Raven. She pointed a seat nearest to the glass panel, a single lone swivel chair. "There,"

Elsa sat down, embarrassed at the squishing noise the chair made as she sat upon it. An awkward silence passed between them and so Elsa took the opportunity to study her new comrades. Besides 'Raven' was a young man. He wore glasses that reminded Elsa of Irene, the apparatus complementing his checker shirt and sky blue cardigan. Elsa didn't like to stereotype but he seemed the quiet, shy type. Easily embarrassed and easily frightened. Directly across him was a dark skinned, kindly looking boy, with muscles that bludged against his long sleeved polo. Beside him sat a pretty young woman, small and dainty with dark hair. It was a bit of transition, in comparison to the red headed boy who sat near her. He caught Elsa's eye and gave her a wink, prompting Elsa to shift her gaze to the last person in the room.

Blonde and built, clad in a leather jacket and jeans, the boy looked the type who hung around in groups and shouted at a lone girl from across the street. And when the girl tried to ignore the oh-so-original catcalls, they'd laugh and snort like mules, jostling each other. He seemed uncomfortable, clutching his Coke-a-Cola bottle as he swung a little in his seat. He avoided her gaze; apparently his feet were far more interesting than the new comer. Elsa couldn't her believe her moronic thoughts but she had to admit it…she was more than a little attracted to this blonde boy. And it was this initial attraction that caused Elsa to read him.

'_Yeah. Yeah, she's pretty. Seven. I'll give her a seven. Maybe a six point fiv...s...se…seven. Six point seven. She sort of looks like Bambi.'_

Elsa was mortified.

'_He thinks I look like a talking deer,'_ Elsa thought to herself.

"So what's your full name?" asked the tiny dark haired girl, smiling sincerely.

Still reeling, Elsa muttered. "Elsa Müller,"

"You're a Brit," commented the red headed boy, chuckling to himself. He held his nose in the air and with a thick and very poor mock English accent proclaimed, "Tea darling?"

"Yes. I mean...y-yes to the first part, no thank you to the second." replied Elsa, a little sheepish.

"So what are you doing so far from home?" asked Raven, shaking her head at the red haired boy.

"It's complicated," Elsa muttered quietly. Raven gave a curt nod. She may not be a telepath, but she knew when to stop. Raven bit her lip before slapping her lap.

"Let's get the introductions into order," Raven smirked, "I'm Raven, in case you didn't hear,"

She gave Elsa a toothy grin Elsa liked Raven, though she had only known the girl for a mere three minutes. There was something sweet and kindly about the pretty blonde's face. Something deeper.

The bespectacled boy leaned in.

"Henry McCoy. Hank for short," he smiled, extending his hand. "How do you do?"

Elsa smiled and took his hand.

"Good thanks,"

The introductions rolled on.

"Armando Muñoz. But everyone calls me Darwin." said the dark skinned boy.

Following Darwin in quick succession, the dark haired girl spoke: "Angel Salvadore."

The red headed boy leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms out to both sides. "Sean 'the Almighty' Cassidy,"

The group giggled.

All that was left was the blonde boy. He seemed a little uncomfortable.

For a wild and inexcusable moment, Elsa thought the boy would say his name was 'Warren', but she shook her head. That was in the past.

"Alex," he muttered finally, offering Elsa a quick smile.

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" asked Angel, leaning forward, "It's just...you seem a lot younger."

" I'm eighteen," replied Elsa automatically.

"Looks like you're the baby of the group," chuckled Armando.

"So you all just met?" asked Elsa, attempting to seem sure of herself.

"Just yesterday," said Hank.

"And between yesterday and today,_ I've_ been thinking," said Raven, brimming with energy, "We should have secret code names. We're government agents now, we need codenames. I wanna be called Mystique,"

"Damn!" exclaimed Sean, "I wanted to be called Mystique,"

"Well tough, I called it,"

The group jumped back as a curious blue flitter of spikes travelled over Raven's body. It was followed by a strange rattling noise and now, instead of Raven, there sat a complete replica of Sean, accurate to every detail.

'_Ah,'_ Elsa thought to herself, _'a shapeshifter.'_

"And I am _way_ more mysterious than you," said Raven, still in Sean form. Even his voice had been replicated.

With Sean particularly impressed, the group applauded Raven's talent. Elsa could feel her self-confidence slipping.

"How about you Darwin?" asked Raven.

"Well Darwin's already a nickname and you know, it sort of fits," said Darwin vaguely, "Adapting to survive and all. Check it," He got up from his seat and strolled over to the rectangular fish tank behind their seats. With a final smile, he dunked his head into the water.

Elsa nodded her head with amazement. Darwin had grown gills, complete and working gills. Adapt to survive.

Thoroughly enthralled, once again the group applauded.

"And what about you Sean?" asked Elsa attentively, eager to look like she was in her comfort zone. Sean leaned forward in his seat and placed his hands together.

"I'm going to be...Banshee,"

"Why do you want to be named after a wailing spirit?" asked Hank.

"You might wanna cover your ears," he pointed at Elsa, "And _you_ might wanna get out of the way,"

Confused, Elsa got up from her seat and stood behind Raven and Hank. She placed her hands over her ears, as did the others.

A wide smile spread over his face as Sean got up from his seat. His lanky stature was evident as his arms swung round his body, slightly resembling a praying mantis. He leaned over the table between the two sofas and drew in a long breath. He held on for a bit, feeling cocky that he was keeping his friends in suspense.

The action was over within a blink of an eye. Sean released his breath, a sharp whistling noise followed and with no warning whatsoever, the glass panel shattered, sending tiny glittering nuggets of glass everywhere.

The group gasped and giggled; they were going to get in trouble for that one.

Elsa took back her seat, giving Sean a nod of approval.

"Your turn," Sean said to Angel, taking back his seat.

"Well, uh, my _stage_ name, is Angel," laughed the girl, standing up as she took off her jacket. She turned her back to the group and lifted her arms at the sides. Slowly, the tattoos on her arms lifted off her body and became a two pair set of glittering, insect like wings. "Kinda fits," she said.

Elsa felt a little relieved. Someone like her.

"You can fly?" exclaimed Raven.

"Huh-uh. And, um," Angel turned to the now empty panel cavity. She drew in her breath and then spat. Elsa was about to recoil in disgust, spitting was a ghastly habit, but held her tongue as she realised the spit was actually a flamed ball. Elsa smirked as the ball landed smartly on the bald head of the statue outside, quietly roasting his head.

Smiling, Angel looked to Hank. "What about you?"

Hank looked disgusted with himself, turning his head away.

Alex, who up until this point had remained relatively silent, pipped up. "How 'bout 'Big-Foot'?"

"Well you know what they say about guys with feet," scorned Raven, much to Elsa's surprise. She looked down to Alex's feet and raised an eyebrow, "And, uh, yours are kind of _small_,"

The group broke into a fit of laughter, slowly quietened down by Darwin.

"Alright now,"

"What about Elsa?" asked Sean, chucking a chocolate peanut at her. Elsa caught it and placed it back onto the table.

Everyone but Elsa seemed to have come up with fitting names. All were appropriate and moulded to shape. And as she said it in her head, Elsa felt embarrassed.

"I think…Valkyrie," she said finally.

Alex chuckled condescendingly, clearly not learnt his lesson. "Valkyrie? Really?"

Elsa squinted her eyes, a flame of annoyance kindling within her. She was wrong for thinking this boy was like Warren. Warren was sweet and compliant, Alex seemed to be a loose cannon. Alex seemed be strong willed, but harsh. Feeling irritated, the words left Elsa's mouth before she could stop them. "Oh yes? And what should we call you; Super Dickhead?"

"Oh snap!" exclaimed Sean, snapping his fingers.

The group laughed and despite the insult, Alex threw up his hands and laughed along with everyone else.

"Come on, ignore him," giggled Angel.

Feeling like she had made a good impression, Elsa got up from her seat. She slipped over her jacket and placed it onto her seat. In a way, she felt like she was imitating Angel's showcase. But what else could she do?

She turned her back to them and within seconds her wings were out at her sides, spanning their full length. They flexed twice, causing a slight gale breeze as they did (completely involuntary on Elsa's part) before folding into a more comfortable position.

"Wow," muttered Darwin.

"Thank you," smiled Elsa, shameful that she was acting like a sponge of good praise.

Hank seemed particularly impressed. His mouth was hanging open slightly, his eyes wide. He got up from his seat and examined Elsa's wings.

"That's impossible," he began.

"N-no it's not," interjected Elsa, "Angel can do practically the same thing,"

"With all respect to Angel," said Hank absently, "I wouldn't say it's quite the same thing. Angel's wings are imbedded in her skin, from what I've seen. And they're light weight, again from what I've just seen. Yours...these are proper avian-like wings. With bone structure and possibly heavy bone density. And they aren't even imbedded in your skin. They came out from _within_ your body. If it's alright with you, later...do you mind if I take some scans? I mean, even for a mutation...it's incredible to think that your body is able to hold these things with breaking. Who knows what your bone structure is like? It'd be great to get some tests done."

Elsa felt like she had just sat through half a year's worth of Biology lessons.

"Um, yeah, sure,"

Alex raised his bottle to Hank and clicked his tongue. "You sure know how to swoon the ladies Hank. You dirty little womanizer, you."

"It's fine," said Elsa, placing a hand on Hank's forearm, "I've always wanted to know myself."

After everyone had settled down, Darwin spoke; "Alex, what is your gift? What can you do?"

Alex scratched his ear, rearranging his sunny hair. "It's uh...I can't, I can't do it in here,"

"Well could you do it out there?" asked Darwin.

"Yeah, why don't you just do it out there?" said Raven.

"Come on!"

Within moments, the group broke into a chant. "Alex! Alex! Alex!"

Giving in, Alex finally got up, setting through the empty panel as he tucked himself into a corner.

"Get down when I tell you," he muttered.

"Get down when I tell you," mocked Sean.

The group followed, standing at the empty panel.

Alex stood in corner, diagonal to the still burning statue. He was twisting his fingers. "Get back,"

The group obeyed him, then immediately disobeyed. Alex appeared irritated.

"_Get back_," he scorned. When he realised his orders had fallen on deaf ears, he simply shook his head and muttered. "Whatever,"

Still twisting his hands, Alex began to move his body in a circular motion. He seemed to be building up something, Elsa supposed.

And she was right.

Red, flaming rings began to appear around him, circling before finally shooting out like missiles and wrapping themselves around the statue, cutting it neatly in half. The group broke into an uproar, laughing and applauding with Angel and Raven jumping up and down.

Elsa was thoroughly impressed. Now that, was something Warren could never do.

"We're going to get in so much trouble," commented Hank, his hands flatly by his sides, his eyes glazed over. Sean shook his head smiling, twirling a glass in his hand. For a moment, his concentration broke, his hand slipped and the glass fell to the ground and shattered. Right on Darwin's foot.

Sean's mouth formed a perfect 'o'. "I am _so_ sorry-!"

Darwin looked up from his foot, much to Elsa's surprise, with a smirk on his face. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised his shoulders. He turned up his chin at Sean.

"Is that the best you've got?"

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><p>Elsa watched her comrades in amusement. Since Sean's accidental attack on Darwin, the entire group had proceeded to act half their ages. Angel had turned on the record player and now, the 'Hippy Hippy Shake' was blurring at an unacceptable volume. Raven was dancing upon the couch constantly inviting Elsa to join her (Elsa of course, constantly and vehemently refused), Angel fluttered her insect wings about the place, a plastic cup in her hand. Hank was swinging upside down from the dome like ceiling light with his unusual feet, this clearly being his first time of 'letting loose'. Alex and Sean had taken to attacking Darwin with whatever instrument they could find, with Darwin yelling things like "Harder!" and "You're not hitting hard enough!". He had formed a rock solid barrier over his upper half, making any impact from Alex or Sean completely harmless.<p>

She knew they were going to cop a hiding, but really...they were only just kids. _She_ was only a kid.

Still smiling, a shadow caught Elsa's eye. Three of them in fact.

Even with all the commotion, Elsa could still hear Charles' voice.

"...they're an exceptional bunch of young people."

Elsa hastily pulled Raven off the couch and shook her head at the girl's protests.

"You're such a party pooper!" Raven complained, laughing heartily. Before Elsa could get a word out, an enraged voice broke through.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Immediately the youths fell silent. Alex and Sean stood still, huffing and puffing. Hank dropped off the ceiling light, Angel quickly fluttered to the ground.

Charles, Erik and the woman Elsa had seen before stood before them. The woman  
>(who Elsa had come to learn was Moira Mac Taggart) looked particular enraged, her hands on her hips, her mouth slightly open. Erik, as usual, seemed unfazed if a little amused at all the damage. Charles seemed quietly infuriated.<p>

"Who destroyed the statue?" asked Moira, pointing at the flaming hunk of metal.

"It was Alex," replied Hank immediately.

"No, Havok," butted Raven, taking centre stage, "We have to call him Havok. That's his name now."

She pointed to Charles. "And we were thinking, you should be Professor X," she now pointed to Erik, "And _you_ should be Magneto,"

Charles was completely unimpressed, whilst Erik seemed indifferent.

"Exceptional," he said flatly.

Shaking her head, Moira walked off, Erik following. As Charles passed the teenagers, he looked directly at Raven.

"I expected more from you," was all he said.

And with that, he left the youths in complete and utter silence.

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><p><strong>AN: I gave you two chapters within a week (i believe) please reward me with reviews! Also, i might not update for a couple of weeks...you know school. <strong>

**oh and i thinking the code name picking scene ran a little differently in the film..im not sure if angel or sean went first! **

**so anyway, **

**read, enjoy and review!**


	10. All In Good Time

Chapter 10

-All In Good Time-

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><p>'<em>What characterizes a member of a minority group is that he is forced to see himself as both exceptional and insignificant, marvellous and awful, good and evil.'-<em>_Norman Mailer_

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><p>Watches were rather ominous if one truly though about it. The rhythmic ticking never ceases, dull clicks which passed by with calculated and infallible precision. The fact that time itself does not stop for anyone, even if the world were crumbling apart and the very earth was being devoured by the molten lava beneath it, was truly frightening.<p>

Elsa scrunched her brow, shaking her head as she did. Thoughts like served her no purpose, nothing but a reason to despair and pull away from her surroundings.

She detached her watch from her wrist and examined it. It truly was a marvel all in itself. It had living parts and a pretty frame, cogs and ticks which were integral to its prolongation. The flick of its second hand, the tiny 'tick' that followed, the gleam it let off in the warm fluorescent light; it was as if there was a tiny beating heart beating beneath the metal frame, with all its clogs and pins pumping and turning cohesively to bring it all together.

It was funny really, the way she could amuse herself. Whilst her new friends were busying themselves with the pin-ball machine, the self-serve bar or the gramophone, Elsa was sitting on the couch. Her legs were stretched out, with one shoulder against the back of the sofa and with her father's watch in her hand.

She had never really looked at it before now, not properly at least; she hardly wore it. She kept it in her pocket or the abyss of her bag.

It truly was a piece of art. A gold trim studded with writhing filigree, ink-black roman numerals against a fallow face. The hands themselves were raven in shade, with a gold outline to finish it off. The straps were worn, of course, but not far from it's prime.

Elsa soon found herself completely oblivious to her surroundings. She could feel herself becoming completely and utterly absorbed with the beauty of her father's watch. She could no longer hear the cries of triumph and groans of disappointment from her friends, or the ever-blaring gramophone rolling out the smooth sounds of Elvis Presley.

All she could hear was the tick of her watch, growing louder as time passed.

Time.

It was the one thing she didn't seem to have enough of. Something her family no longer had.

Elsa felt a little queasy; she could hear her own heartbeat beating in rhythm with the beat of her watch and growing faster still.

Suddenly, she felt something on her shoulder. A strong hand had grasped, clutching and shaking it. Fuzzy sounds began filtering her ears, rich deep notes. As it began to tune out itself, Elsa finally realised that it was simply Alex, asking her if he could sit down.

She looked up. Alex truly had a kinder face than what Elsa gave him credit for. His normally stiff and nerved appearance afforded him a rather quiet-psychopath vibe. It was clear that his shy, outwardly manner was a mask. But as to whether it was malice or kindness that hid beneath, Elsa was not entirely sure. But from she had gathered, it was likely to be the latter.

His bright blue eyes glistened, his smile reaching his eyes as his right cheek formed a dimple. His long nose twitched.

"So…can I?" he asked.

"So can I what?" Elsa replied, still a little dazed.

"Can I sit here?" He seemed a little baffled, no doubt wondering how she had not heard him. He was motioning to the minute space behind Elsa.

She didn't know how he would even fit. And if the lack of space wasn't a deterring factor, the glass of liquid in his left hand and its potential to cause a horrendous mess should have been. There were plenty of other seats available; why did he have to sit here?

"If you can fit." said Elsa, shrugging her shoulders. She tried to keep her cool, but Elsa could feel her palms slickening with sweat and her heart beating furiously.

With a wicked smile and inhuman speed, Alex sat down in the crippled space, pushing against Elsa a little before he finally settled. His glass of liquid sloshed dangerously, before finally settling with nothing more than a quiet ripple. His arm over the head of the sofa, the glass swung close to Elsa's face.

Elsa could feel the heat rising in her face. She was mortified at their closeness; she could feel his heart gently pounding away against her back.

Though very uncomfortable at her current predicament, but thoroughly surprised at Alex's calm nature, Elsa couldn't help but catch a whiff of the blonde boy's drink. It looked like Cola, but the smell suggested otherwise.

"Wh-what is that supposed to be?" Elsa gagged.

"OJ mixed with Cola." he replied happily.

"Good grief."

"You should try it." said Alex. He leaned forward, pushing his chest even harder against her back as he struggled to shove the revolting drink under her nose.

"No! That's…get...Al..." Elsa thrashed her head from side to side, conscious that any sudden movement would result in a dark wet stain on her pants.

Beside himself with laughter, Alex finally settled down. He took a sip of his drink, unable to do even that as he began to choke on the liquid with laughter. Elsa had never felt more revolted, yet strangely attracted.

Was he flirting? Was that what it was? Was that how Americans flirted? Shove the girl completely out of her comfort zone and then force-feed her his affections?

Elsa was about to excuse herself, firm in her stance that anything would do, and run at warp speed back to her bunk, when Hank came flurrying in through the double doors. He was sporting his white lab coat, something he would have normally removed when he was around the others. His dark hair rested in an elegant mess on his angular head, with his check white shirt a little damp with sweat. He was carrying a thick pile of paper in his hand, ruffling and re-ordering the pages as he walked through.

He looked up briefly and saw Elsa instantly.

"Oh good you're here!" smiled Hank. He sat down on the sofa opposite and placed his papers on the coffee table between the two pieces of furniture. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped abruptly when he noticed Alex. He seemed a little confused, but quickly shrugged it off.

Despite Elsa's pleading looks, it was clear that Hank wasn't the type to realise when a friend was in need.

"I've got the results from your scans." said Hank rather hastily. He riffled through his papers and carefully selected a dark, floppy picture.

"Scans for what?" asked Alex.

"I took some X-Ray scans of Elsa the night before. And a few blood samples as well."

Alex poked Elsa hard in the shoulder. "Why wasn't I invited?"

"I thought that was obvious." retorted Elsa rudely.

Alex scoffed before he skulled the remains of his absurd mix of drinks.

Elsa rolled her eyes.

She liked Alex, but now that the initial awkwardness had died down a little it seemed that he was coming out of shell. Like everything else, Elsa was yet to judge its benefits.

Elsa turned back to Hank and with little effort, managed to intrude Hank's brilliant mind.

'_Save me, Hank.'_

At first a little startled, looking around wildly, a large grin spread across his face as he realised. He seemed more than happy to join in Elsa's game. He picked up the scan and held it in the light.

"Uh,uh...come-come here Elsa. You'll need to look at this properly." Hank stuttered.

"Yes, lets!"

Quick as a flash, Elsa pushed herself off the sofa and darted over to Hank. Alex held out his arms to his sides and sneered, with an expression on his face that clearly asked 'wwhaaatttt?'

Smiling, Elsa turned back to the bespectacled boy.

"So?" pushed Elsa eagerly. "What do the results-?"

"Oh, it's incredible." Hank suddenly sprang to life, offering Elsa an enthusiastic toothy grin.

It was quite a strange looking scan. Her skeleton itself was clear and defined; the upper half of her body, however, was a little cloudy. A clash of bones so intertwined with each it was quite hard to define them individually. Not only that, her scan was very dark. Darker than most scans she had seen. She assumed it was the quality of the machine, but it can't have been. She had seen the machines used in the Division and they were far from shoddy.

She noticed knobs at her shoulders, which she presumed were the joints of her wings.

Hank pointed to two long, curved bones. "You see this? These are your wings-"

"My skeleton," interrupted Elsa. "Why's it so dark? Shouldn't it be lighter? And it looks so bloody thick."

"That's the thing, it should be. But obviously you're a mutant, nothing is as it should be." He looked up and smiled at Alex and Elsa.

"It's carbon fibre."

"What?" asked Elsa, smiling but incredulous.

"Your bones are coated with naturally occurring carbon fibre." Hank was practically bouncing with excitement. "I mean, I knew-I _knew_ I was on the right track! The carbon fibre on your bones makes them very hard to break. And it's part of the reason why your body can cope with holding your wings. But-"

"There's always a 'but'." laughed Alex.

"Yes." replied Hank. "The carbon fibre found on your wings isn't nearly as dense or strong as the carbon fibre found on the rest of your bones. That and your wings are completely hollow. That's why they're so flexible. I mean, whilst they're hollow they're also very dense and strong. Do you understand what I mean?"

Elsa slowly nodded. "No marrow, but still very dense? There's a tunnel of sorts in there?"

"Precisely!" smiled Hank. "But the lack of carbon fibre makes them a hell of lot more flexible than the rest of you. It's incredible."

"I suppose that's why I've never broken an arm." said Elsa quietly, staring at her scans with amazement.

"Probably. But if you look here," Hank pointed to a section between her upper rib-cage, a place Elsa realised was the space between her shoulder blades. "See how empty it looks? Not as dense as the other parts?"

"Yes?"

"That's a weak spot. There's little carbon fibre there, for whatever reason, so the added protection isn't there. If anything gets to you in this particular area, you'll be in serious trouble."

Alex leaned forward in his seat. "So what you're basically saying is that...she's hard to kill, but it's not impossible?"

Hank laughed, nodding his head.

Elsa pouted and ignored the boys' laughter. "What about my blood results?"

"I only have the first set of results here; the second will take a little longer."

"Ok."

"You asked me, when we were doing your tests, why you can't put on weight? That you couldn't put on weight despite the fact that you, 'ate like a pig', I believe it was?"

Alex laughed heartily.

"Yes." Elsa muttered quietly. She had told Hank such a thing simply because she thought there was some sort of doctor-patient confidentiality code.

"Well, that's simply high metabolism. Something many people have. However, your blood tests show that your body processes food and nutrients more efficiently than a normal human being even with high metabolism. You utilize it in the most efficient way possible, so you don't actually store any excess of anything harmful."

"Is that even possible?" smiled Alex. "You've got every girl's dream digestive system."

"There's more to come. But it will take a while." said Hank, readjusting his glasses.

"Well, I'm grateful for what you've given me so far." said Elsa. The trio turned as they heard an eruption of laughter coming from the corner of the room. The others were still attempting to annihilate each other's pin-ball scores and it seemed that Sean had come out the winner. He just needed to challenge the reigning champion in order to seal his title of 'Division X Pin-Ball Champion for All Eternity.'

"Alex, get up here!" called Darwin. "Put this boy back in his place!"

Alex scratched his head. "I,um...let him have his moment. It's-"

"Oh, come _on_!"

Alex turned to Elsa and Hank.

"You'll be fine without me, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"Alex, I'm not going to eat her whilst you're gone."

Placing his glass on the table with a 'clink', Alex pushed off the sofa and swaggered over to the pin-ball machine.

"Who _dares _challenge the King...?"

"I never really liked pinball myself." muttered Hank quietly, staring at the others with a sort of forlorn. He gave Elsa a quick smile before settling against the couch. Elsa sniffed, twisting her fingers in her lap. She wondered if she was being rude or if it was entirely her business, but...

"Hank?"

"Yes."

"May I ask you something?"

Go ahead."

"When I...when I was getting those scans done. In your laboratory-"

"Yes."

"I saw, um...I'm not sure how to put it." Elsa was in fact very aware of how to put, but the fear of seeming nosy thwarted her words. "Shall I call it, a serum?"

Hank scratched his nose. "I have many serums. What colour was it?"

"Like a, green. I suppose. A bright green." replied Elsa.

"Ah, yes." said Hank. "It's my appearance normalizing serum. I'm yet to find the right name." After noticing Elsa confused expression, he added. "For my feet."

"Why?" asked Elsa slowly.

"Why?" repeated Hank, chuckling a little.

"Well, I mean...it's your mutation, why get rid of it?"

"I'm not getting rid of it." said Hank defiantly, suddenly stiff. "I'm just going to make them look normal."

"Why?"

"Ever since I was a child, I only ever wanted to look normal." Hank adjusted his glasses. "Ordinary."

"Ordinary?" laughed Elsa, her tone unmistakeably harsh. "Hank, what you can do is _ex_traordinary-"

"Thank you." interrupted Hank. "But if I say so myself, it's ok for you. Your wings, your telepathy, you can hide it if you need to."

"Hiding." said Elsa bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's why I'm here isn't it?"

Hank did not say a word. In actual fact, he didn't know why she was here. They had all only been together for a few days; it was impossible to know every detail. He had always sensed a difficult story with her. He just never had the nerve to ask.

Elsa seemed to be recomposing herself. She smiled briefly and in that instance, Hank thought she looked beautiful.

"When my oldest brother, Klaus, was five his mutation manifested." began Elsa, staring into the distance. "He went from good-looking kid to a-a freak of nature."

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "He looked like a...a giant bat. Huge ears with even bigger, bug-like eyes and fangs that poked out over his bottom lip. But he could jump to incredible heights, latch himself onto any surface and he could see in the dark, like you and I see in the day. He could hear things too, things my siblings and I couldn't. Klaus, physically, wasn't the most endearing creature you'd ever seen...but he was my brother and I loved him. But he...he hated himself so much, it was like he was ill. He hardly went outside. He was so frightened of what others might say that he spent most of his time cooped up in his room." Her eyes widened and a deep sadness settled in them. Tears settled at the rims of her bottom eye-lids.

"He never _lived _Hank; he never lived because he was afraid. I don't want that for you."

Hank remained quiet for a while. He didn't want to seem as though he hadn't listened or didn't care for what she had to say. But the truth was that he had already made up his mind, many years ago, and he wasn't about to let it go simply because a girl told him to.

"I appreciate your concern, Elsa and I see where you're coming from, but I'm not like your brother. I'm diff-"

"Different? Hank your intelligence does not make you any less vulnerable than my brother." Elsa seemed a little irritated, but her annoyance quickly turned into sympathy as she placed a hand on Hank's arm. "I don't mean to boss you around. It's clear you're far superior to me in almost every respect. I like you Hank, I don't want to see you get hurt."

Trying his hardest to show her some sort of reassurance, Hank bumped shoulders with her and smiled. He looked right into her eyes, in an attempt of sorts to reassure her of his position.

"Don't worry, I won't."

**A/N: In regards to Hank's informative little speech about Elsa's structure, please don't beat me over the head if any of that sounded biologically retarded (because I'm sure it was). Thank you so much to katnisseverdeen and as always LizziePikie-Aiko and S-Dawg 101. You know, I'd really like to know how you all feel about Elsa. What does she look like to you? Like her or not? And Alex? Even Warren? Thoughts?**


	11. Shaw Makes His Mark

Chapter 11

-Shaw Makes His Mark-

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><p>'<em>Revolution...is the idea of justice...It divides power quantitatively, not qualitatively as our constitutionalists do...It is atheist in religion and anarchist in politics: anarchist in the sense that it considers power as a very passing necessity: atheist in that it recognizes no religion, because it recognizes them all.'-<em>Francisco Piy Margall

* * *

><p>The bright little bulbs of the pinball machine flashed manically, corresponding with collisions and blinking flashes of bonus points. The ever increasing 'dings!' echoed in the room, some running together so simultaneously; it was becoming one unified sound. As it were, Alex Summers was punching away at the machine, his hands working hard at the plastic side buttons. His concentration was unwavering and yet he seemed so relaxed and easy. Darwin stood beside his friend, watching as the blonde boy completely pummelled his previous score.<p>

"Jesus man, you are _killing_ me." groaned Darwin, as he watched Alex's score sky rocket.

"Don't beat yourself up." Alex chuckled, still punching at the machine. "I've had a lot of spare time."

Elsa turned back. That spare time, she supposed, referred to the period he had spent in prison. For what for she did not know, but she could hardly imagine prisons offered their inmates mindless leisure activities.

Alex and Darwin had gotten close over the past few days and the extent of their new-found friendship was evident. They were always laughing, always wrestling upon the floor and according to Sean, always chatting well into the night. They clearly had much to exchange, coming from completely different walks of life.

It was funny really. Days ago, none of them had known each other. None of them had known that the other had existed and now here they were, thrown together in a four walled leisure room.

It was…nice. It was a sense of belonging that Elsa had never felt with her previous friends. All of them had been human, of course. Normal, boring and human.

Elsa shuddered as she thought back to her previous choices of acquaintances. Silly, immature girls whose only problems had been their degree of attractiveness, if their waist were small enough or if father had purchased that pony yet. None of them had been aware of her condition. Except for him and he...

Elsa shook her head.

_No. _

She felt a finger poking her arm and so turned round in her seat. Sean smiled at her broadly, his brow furrowed in amusement as he stared with his glittering green eyes.

"You ok?" he asked, chucking a peanut into his mouth.

Elsa shrugged. "I'm sort of wondering why I'm here."

Sean sat up straight in his and clasped his hands together. He looked down at Elsa with a smug expression.

"You are here," began Sean slowly, as if he were speaking to an idiot. "Because your mother and father met each other. You are here, because they fell in love and decided to celebrate that love by joining together in a blissful union of pleasure and ecstasy."

Elsa blinked several times. She had no idea where this was going, only that she found her mouth welded shut and unable to voice a word of protest.

Oblivious to Elsa, Sean continued. "In fact, if you want to go even further, you must pay homage to your grandparents. For if _they_ had never met and copulated, then your parents would never have been created and thus _you_ would never have been created. But we can go further than that! In fact, we can go so far back that we can say that if it weren't for your ancestors, neanderthalic or otherwise, you wouldn't be here at all. Period!"

Sean slumped back in his chair, his lecture seemingly over. He seemed a little exhausted, as if he had explained the finer details of astrophysics to a child. He suddenly perked up again, as if a light had gone off in his mind.

He smiled sheepishly as he muttered. "I wasn't saying thatyou _are_ a Neanderthal, I'm just saying that…at one stage…you were from…"

Slightly amused, Elsa raised a hand to stop him. "Okay first of all, we're not descended from Neanderthals. We're distant cousins or some other. Second of all…you know what I meant. You know, right here, right _now_."

"What else?" laughed Sean, throwing his hands to his sides. "This Sebastian Shaw is working with the Russians, he wants to start World War Three and we have been recruited to save the day. Why? Because we. Are. The best."

"Or because we were the first ones they found."

"You're worse than Moira." Sean wrinkled his nose and hoisted it into the air, as if he smelt something foul. "Kill joy."

Elsa laughed as she shook her head. She had never met anyone like Sean. Her whole life she had been surrounded by academics and pretentious big shots with dreams of dominating the world. Money orientated and completely loaded. Sean just seemed so detached and out of it, as if he was happy just floating about and getting by with a laugh and a handful of peanuts. Wacky, yet sincere and genuine.

The chatter died down a little and as it did, two agents of the Division walked by the large (now restored) glass panel. Each were dressed in clean, sharp black suits which made them look more important than what they probably were.

The agents of the entire Division had been informed of the new arrivals and most had been welcoming enough. They seemed fine with guarding the mutants so as long as it didn't cause any trouble for them. Other agents, however, had voiced their favour against such cooperation, claiming that looking after 'freaks' wasn't part of their job description. They had signed up to serve their people and their country, not the genetic abominations they had been presented with.

Of the two agents standing before them, one seemed a little queasy and uneasy. It was as if he had been pressured to accompany his comrade rather than join him in genuine interest. The other, didn't seem so uncomfortable. He eyed the mutants with a mix of disgust and amusement and soon, a wicked grin spread across his goofy face.

"Oh, I didn't know the circus was in town!" He proclaimed with a slight lisp, laughing heartily as he did. He nudged his fellow agent in the ribs and in turn, the docile agent simply grinned sheepishly.

Agent Goof Face directed his attention to Angel. "Hey, come on, honey. Give us a little…?" He held his hands at his shoulders and flapped them in an up-down motion, as if to imitate Angel's fluttering wings.

Angel herself looked as though she had been slapped in the face. She hid her embarrassment in a shy smile, shaking her head as she muttered a quiet 'no'.

"No?"

The agent, clearly quite the avid persuader, moved onto Hank. He grabbed his foot and hopped around on the spot. "Hey. Hey! Come on, let's see the foot,"

Still chewing on his mixed nuts, Hank got up from his seat. For a moment, Elsa thought he was about to slip off his shoe and shove it into the agent's face but Hank's sour expression told her otherwise.

The agent seemed sickly overjoyed, believing Hank was about to follow his request.

"There it is! Come on, Big Foot, let's go."

Instead, Hank merely walked up to the glass panel, gave the agents a curt wave, pressed the small button beside the panel on the wall and within seconds, a lime green curtain spread across the panel, completely blocking off the agents and the courtyard.

"Hey, hey. Come on. Hey." Elsa heard the agent cry as the curtains closed.

Hank sat back down, still chewing on a pecan nut as his stagnant expression softened. Angel appeared visibly upset, her eyes fixated at her lap.

"They're just guys being stupid." reassured Raven kindly.

"Guys being stupid I can handle." announced Angel, her tone harsh. "Ok? I've handled that my whole life. But I'd rather a bunch of guys stare at me with my clothes off, than the way these ones stare at me."

There was a brief moment of silence between the group of mutants, before Raven finally muttered.

"At us."

Though she did not care to admit, Elsa felt the agent's words rang true.

'_I didn't know the circus was in town!'_

It was nice to be among other mutants, those who understood her grief but she over the past days she couldn't help but feel like somewhat of a spectacle. Stuck in this games room for most of the day, with a large panel which made her feel like she was in some sort of cage. Something to stare at, but certainly not something to approach. It was as if-

Elsa was suddenly broken from her thoughts by a dull, thudding noise coming from the distance. The others noticed it too, all perking up and looking around.

"What was that?" asked Darwin, looking up from Alex's game.

The thudding noise returned, this time a little louder and what would seem, a little closer. There was a slight shake in the room and the ceiling lights flickered a little.

"I don't know." muttered Darwin, as he strode over to the glass panel. "Something doesn't feel right."

Hank quickly got up from his seat and reopened the curtains so that now Elsa and the others had a full view of the courtyard. Elsa could feel her heart quickening in beat. Ever since that night, her nerves had lost their cool. Anything set her off, anything would get her heart pumping.

_Thud. Thud. Thud. _

There was a curious red flash in the sky and two figures appeared against the back drop of the full moon. The young mutants craned their necks, eager to decipher what exactly it was.

Elsa strained her dark eyes. She could make out two darkly clothed men; however, it seemed that one to the left was holding the other by the collar. He seemed darker skinned, the figure with the hold, although his colour was not of any natural hue.

"What is that?" asked Darwin.

The man to the left suddenly disappeared and for a brief moment, the remaining figure was left hanging in the air. Elsa didn't need to be a psychic to figure out what would come next.

The group jumped back in horror, with cries of shock and faces plastered with alarm as the man fell straight down and splattered upon the courtyard ground, right outside the panel. Elsa instantly recognized him; the head of Division X. She did not know his name, for he had never disclosed it; he was only known as the Man in Black. For all the time Elsa had spent with him, he had come across as kindly and warm, completely amazed by mutants as a whole.

Now he lay upon the ground, a steady stream of rich blood creating a pool around his head, his face stuck in a lasting expression of disbelief and horror.

The group stood back, shocked and frightened. But there was no time to think, however, as it suddenly rained agents. In quick succession, there would be a flash of flames and consequently, they fell. Each crying and shrieking as they fell to their deaths. Some were scattered in the courtyard, others falling upon the various rooves of the sub-divisions.

The young mutants did not know what to do, let alone what was happening.

Feeling air headed and ready to faint, Elsa ran over to the side wall and pounded on the emergency button. They had been advised to press it only if it was truly needed. This seemed a good time as ever.

The mutants clasped their ears as they ascending drone of the emergency siren blared through the division.

By now, the remaining agents of the Division had taken heed to the siren and had descended onto the courtyard. They took their positions, clasping their guns in their hands as they shouted orders at one another.

"Get back, get back! Do not leave that room! We are under attack!" a young blonde agent screeched at the mutants, urging them to stay well away from the glass panel.

With a flash of flames, the red-skinned mutant reappeared.

The young mutants shrieked as they attempted to alert the agents. Their voices clamoured together as the agents turned back round.

"Shoot, shoot!" cried one of the agents. As they opened fire, the red-skinned mutant disappeared again. Within milliseconds, he re-appeared at the side of an agent and grabbed his arms. The red-skinned mutant pointed the agent's still firing gun at the panel and as the bullets fell upon it, it shattered, leaving the mutants completely exposed.

Crouched in positions of safety, the mutant's swivelled round as the sounds of raging winds filled their ears. Across the room, to the other panel, they could see a furious tornado swirling through the green acres of the Division land. The grey winds whipped round and round, picking up anything in its path. Elsa saw the look of complete agony on Hank's kind face as his Cerebro machine was picked up by the swirling winds, completely destroying it. Hank had worked so hard on it and without it they wouldn't have been brought here.

Darwin took a defensive stance over his friends, trying to protect them as much as he could.

The red-skinned mutant continued to move at warp speed and for a sickening moment, Elsa was impressed by the mutant's slick movements. He moved with such precision and skill, Elsa couldn't help but feel proud that they belonged to the same race.

He worked through each agent, pulling some into bushes and using his prehensile tail to strangle others. His vicious blade flew about in his hands as one by one, the agents fell like flies.

Darwin shook his head.

"Stay here my ass!" he cried. "Let's go!"

He got onto his feet and the others followed as he ran through the double doors. Elsa wasn't really aware of what she was doing, only that her feet were moving and her body was following. She could hear Raven whimpering and screaming in the background and if she hadn't been so caught up, Elsa was sure she would be doing the same. At the end of the corridor stood three agents, watching with horror at the events unfolding just around the corner. The agents flicked round just in time to catch the on-coming mutants, preventing them from going any further.

Elsa was winded as she was caught roughly by an agent.

"Get back!" the guards ordered.

"We can help, we can help!" they cried, desperate to make them see. A blast of fire and energy burst through the corridor with the agents copping most of the blast. Scared out of their minds, the mutants fled back into the games room. Raven was beside herself, squealing, crying and sobbing.

They re-entered the room, watching as the tornado outside continued to rage. The intensity of the furious winds amplified and as it did, a stray SWAT was picked up and came flying through the panel. The remaining panel shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere. The group jumped back.

Now both glass panels were gone and they were completely exposed.

Elsa felt completely helpless. There was too much going on. Too much running and sobbing and confusion. Everything was becoming a blur and all she wanted to do was to find a corner, crawl into the foetal position and bang her head on the floor.

This reminded her too much of that night.

The sudden descent, the forthcoming confusion, frantic actions and muddled movements.

Clutching her chest, she tried to enter the mind of the red-skinned mutant. If anything, she could try to stop him telepathically.

Elsa struggled to maintain her concentration; he was moving too fast. She tried her hardest to latch onto his mind, clench it and control but he kept on slipping from her weak grasp. At times, she managed to latch on and for split seconds, she received his thoughts and his intentions. But those split seconds were not enough. Aware of her intrusion, the mutant managed to push her out too, letting out a low growl as he did.

He kept on moving from agent to agent, surely and quickly killing each and every one. His tail flicked around him, the external entity just as much a weapon as his vicious blade.

His presence flashed here and there, curious red flames following him as he did.

He reappeared again and took a hold of the young blonde agent. With practised ease, he stabbed the young man in the back. The agent groaned as he fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

Raven sobbed.

The whipping noise from outside the other panel came to a sudden stop and the group huddled together as a young, long haired mutant entered the room through the empty panel.

He tugged at the purple lapels of his suit, a cocky grin on his structured face. He was a handsome young man.

_Janos. Janos Quested. _

'Strange name.' Elsa mused briefly.

With no-one else left, the red skinned mutant advanced towards the group, entering the room himself. Now that he was no longer moving at warp speed, Elsa managed to get the red-skinned mutant's name; Azazel.

The young mutants huddled closer, their hearts beating together at one similar pace.

Raven let out a small scream as the sounds of gunshots shot through the air, right outside the double doors.

"Wait!" they heard a guard cry and from the tone of his voice, Elsa could tell he was busting to save his arse. "You want the mutants? They're right behind that door. Just let us _normal_ people go. We're no threat-"

There was the snap of bone and the dull thud of flesh against ground. The double doors opened slowly and as they did, a suited man entered the room. He was clad in a sharp dark blue ensemble, shining black shoes and a blood red cravat. What was most interesting though was the bullet like helmet he adorned on his head.

Elsa squinted her eyes and tried to enter his mind. She was surprised though as she did, she gasped as her intrusion simply rebounded on her, searing her mind; his helmet seemed to provide a shield of sorts.

It didn't truly surprise her, for her telepathic abilities were already very weak.

"Where is the telepath?" he asked Azazel.

Azazel grinned.

"There is one here." he grinned maliciously as his gaze rested on Elsa. "Just not the one you're looking for."

"And who might be this telepath?" asked the helmeted mutant. Azazel snickered cruelly as he nodded his head towards Elsa.

"Are you a threat?" the helmeted mutant asked her. This time, Azazel let out a loud, mocking snort. Enough to tell anyone that Elsa was as much threat as a fuzzy mouse was to a venomous snake.

"Oh, well. At least I can take this silly thing off." The dapper mutant pulled off his helmet, revealing a shock of stiff mousey hair and a thin, stretched face. He could be in his forties; perhaps fifties, but his age did not reflect his appearance.

"Good evening, my name is Sebastian Shaw." he said, passing his helmet to Janos. "And I am not here to hurt you."

So there he was; Sebastian Shaw. The very reason they had all been recruited. He wasn't as threatening as he sounded, but perhaps that was merely a mask his true nature.

There was the sound of scuffling feet and a SWAT appeared in the courtyard. "Freeze!"

"Azazel." ordered Shaw.

Azazel disappeared from the room and reappeared behind the SWAT. With the smooth flick of his hand, his blade pierced the SWAT's armour and he too, fell among his comrades.

She didn't mean to, but Elsa quickly took Raven's hand, squeezing it with all her might.

"My friends, there is a revolution coming." said Shaw, slowly advancing towards them. "When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will be faced with a choice."

He began to look to each of the mutants as he spoke. "Be enslaved, or rise up to rule. Choose freely but know that if you are not with us, then by definition you are against us."

Elsa could feel her breathing slowing and her heart calming. She certainly didn't mean to but she felt strangely allured by Sebastian Shaw. His words felt potent upon her very soul as he gazed at each of them with equal and unwavering concentration. He stood tall and was brimming with confidence.

"So, you can stay and fight for the people who fear and hate you. Or you could join me, and live like kings."

She could not see Angel's face, but Elsa could tell the girl was beginning to crack. She was shuffling on her feet and swaying a little. Shaw's gaze fell upon on Angel and with a mixture of sympathy and quietly malicious persuasion, muttered. "And queens."

Elsa watched from behind, after a moment of silence, as Angel's hand fell into Shaw's open one. Smiling, Shaw firmly held onto Angel's hand began to lead her away. Azazel and Janos followed.

The teenagers' jaws all dropped simultaneously, unable to comprehend that Angel had been swayed.

"Angel." protested Raven, completely in disbelief.

"Are you kiddin' me?" uttered Sean.

"Come on." said Angel, her voice breaking a little. "We don't belong here. And that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Angel turned back around and recommenced with Shaw and his group. The young mutants watched in incredulity.

"We have to do something." muttered Raven.

"Like what?" asked Elsa, a little sceptical.

Darwin turned round and spoke quietly to Alex. Elsa could not hear their words, but could tell they weren't on the same page. Alex shook his head vigorously, with Darwin persisting. Darwin slapped Alex sharply across the chest and Alex retaliated with a heavy shove.

"Wait!" called Darwin, moving away from the group. "I'm coming with you."

"Good choice." smiled Shaw as he shook Darwin's hand.

The remaining mutants moved out of their group and separated, watching as Darwin spoke to Shaw.

"So tell me about your mutation." requested Shaw.

"Well, I adapt to survive." said Darwin simply. "So I guess that means I'm coming with you,"

"I like that." smiled Shaw. He held out his arm and welcomed Darwin as he and his group formed a line. Though Elsa did not know what it was, she could tell that the boys had figured out a plan of sorts.

The tension mounted. Finally, as Darwin stood beside Angel, he yelled:

"Alex!"

"Get out!" screamed Alex, motioning the others to take cover. The others did as they were told; huddling together, well away from any danger.

"Do it!" shrieked Darwin as he grabbed Angel and wrapped himself around her as he created an armour over their bodies. Alex spun once and his rings of energy appeared. With a cry, he flung them at Shaw and his mutants.

For a brief moment, it seemed as though their plan was working and they would have Angel back within seconds. But Alex's smile faded as Shaw caught his rings of fiery energy. Sebastian seemed to be absorbing them, until finally, they completely dissolved within him.

"Protecting your fellow mutants?" laughed Shaw. "That's a noble gesture."

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Feels good."

By now, Darwin had released Angel, unsure as to what to do. Without a second thought, Darwin approached Shaw and swung a punch at him. Shaw simply held out his arm and the impact of Darwin's on coming blow was merely absorbed by the older mutant. Darwin looked a mixture of confusion and dying hope.

Shaw grabbed Darwin by the face and pulled his hand up. The swirling rings of energy he had absorbed from Alex were now circulating in his palm. Slowly, he began to push the ball of energy into Darwin's mouth.

"Adapt to _this_." he whispered. With a final push, the ball of energy entered Darwin's body.

Shaw re-joined his mutants, they linked arms and with a flash of flames, they disappeared.

Elsa watched in horror as Darwin seemed to convulse. His body began to heat up and his skin started to turn a silvery tone. The silver broke through and was replaced by stone.

Darwin looked to his friends, his face and body now completely made out of cracking stone. He held out a hand and gave them a sad smile as he shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

><p>The young mutants sat outside the remnants of Division X, the thick smell of smoke and despair hanging in the air. They had spent most of the morning gathering the remainder of their things in the case they would be relocated. Charles, Moira and Erik had not come back as of yet and Elsa found herself yearning for Erik to return soon. She was standing by herself, playing with her watch.<p>

Watching as the time ticked on.

Funny. So much had happened in the last few hours and yet, time went on. It had not stopped to mourn, it did not relent; it did not stop for anybody.

That was twice now she had watched the destruction of a friend, the first one she hoped was still alive. She didn't know what stopped her from crying, weeping and sobbing. Perhaps it was the presence of others or the complete disbelief of the situation. She couldn't help but feel guilt for what had happened. She felt as though Darwin's death had been partly her fault; she had not utilized her powers efficiently. If she had, she would have been able to read Shaw's, Janos' or even Azazel's minds and perhaps they would have been in a completely differently situation.

She turned round and scanned the expressions on faces of her friends. Sean was leaning forward in his seat, his circular sunglasses covering his sullen eyes. Hank sat slumped, staring at nothing in particular.

Alex seemed the most distressed, his youthful brow furrowed and wrought with anger.

"Hey." said Elsa, as she sat beside the boy.

"I can't believe he's dead." muttered Alex, not looking at Elsa. "I mean…he was right _there _and now he's…it's my fault."

"What?" Elsa twitched. "How?"

"He used _my_ energy to kill Darwin." said Alex "_My _energy."

"Yeah, _he_ used it." reassured Elsa. "You were never intending to kill him; we just didn't know what Shaw was capable of."

"Yeah, we didn't…." Alex stopped in his tracks and looked to Elsa with a poisonous gaze, "Hey, wait. You're a telepath aren't you?"

Elsa could see where this was going. "Y-Yes."

"So why didn't you just read his mind?"

"It wasn't so simple-"

"Yeah, it was!" screeched Alex, causing the others to look up, "If you had read his mind, you would have known what he was about to do."

"I-I tried," stuttered Elsa. "B-before…I don't…it doesn't-"

"Yeah? Really?" sneered Alex, casting Elsa a disgusted expression, "Cause if you really had tried, Darwin would still be here-"

Elsa felt as though she had kicked in the stomach.

"Hey! Hey!" exclaimed Sean, holding out his hand. "Come on, Alex. It wasn't Elsa's fault, no more than it was yours. _Shaw _killed Darwin. Alright? We are _not_ fighting amongst ourselves."

Elsa shuffled away from Alex, huddling close to Hank who placed a hand on her arm. Alex's words had been circling in her head long before he had uttered them, but she had never expected he would voice them.

There was the sound of a motor vehicle and soon, Charles' Mercedes pulled up. Evidently, the trio were back from their trip to Russia. Erik, Moira and Charles hopped out of the car, rushing to the teenagers.

Erik stood strong, his expression hidden behind his black sunglasses.

"Raven!" cried Charles as he wrapped his arms round her. He pulled away and looked to the others.

"We've made arrangements for you to be taken home immediately."

"We're not going home." said Sean defiantly.

"What?" asked Charles.

"Well, he's not going back to prison." said Sean, motioning to Alex.

"He killed Darwin!" exclaimed Alex.

"All the more reason for you to leave." retaliated Charles. "This is over."

"Darwin's dead, Charles." said Raven quietly. "And we can't even bury him."

Erik's voice cut through like a knife through butter and the entire group looked to him.

"We can avenge him."

Avenge.

Elsa liked that word. She could think of a few people she could avenge.

Charles looked a little flustered; obviously he had been hoping for some words of support from his comrade.

"Erik?" he said, motioning to the brooding German, "A word, please."

Charles and Erik walked off to the side, huddling together.

"They're just kids," muttered Charles.

"No, they _were_ kids." pressed Erik, pulling off his glasses. "Shaw has his army, we need ours."

Charles stared at Erik a little, chewing on his words. After a moment, Charles turned back to the others. He looked upon their expectant faces, their dreams and hopes surfacing. He had seen so much potential, in all of them. Though Charles could not say he agreed with Erik's motives, he could see his cause.

"We'll have to train." declared Charles. "All of us. Yes?"

"Yeah." agreed Alex.

"Well, we can't stay here." interrupted Hank. "Even if they reopen the department it's not safe. We've got nowhere to go."

A slow, knowing smile spread across Charles' face. A bright light going off in his head. "Yes we do."


	12. A Storm Be Coming

Chapter 12

-A Storm Be Coming-

Her trunk clanked noisily into the back of the truck, slamming noisily against the hard floor. Elsa frowned at the agent's carelessness. It may not be of any value to him, but it certainly meant something to her. Her whole life was in there or, at least, what remained of it. She shot him a dirty look as he went to collect the others' bags but he merely shrugged. A look that said 'what are you going to do about it?'

The mutants were to leave in a few minutes, to Charles' mansion which was to serve as both their home and their training base for the next several months. Possibly, for the rest of their lives.

Elsa felt strange about that possibility. The possibility that she could be spending the rest of her life in a foreign country, away from everything she knew and every one she loved.

That wasn't exactly true. There wasn't anyone left for her now.

No. That wasn't true either.

Out of the corner of Elsa's eye, she caught the sight of Moira's dark hair. She had many things to ask her but this one held the most importance. She ran after the older woman and before Moira had any chance to react, she blurted out:

"What about my uncle and aunt?"

Moira furrowed her brow. "What about them?"

"Well, how are they going to contact me if we're moving?" asked Elsa, her hands on her hips.

"It's too risky," stated Moira, shaking her head. She moved a little, as if she were preparing to move away from Elsa at any moment. "If someone gets to your guardians and get this address, then we're all in the deep,"

"By someone you mean Shaw?" snapped Elsa, puling at Moira's elbow. She didn't mean to be so rough, but Moira was being difficult. "Well so? I can't just leave them in the dark, not after everything they've done for me."

Moira still looked unconvinced

Elsa sighed quietly, clasping her hands together. "Look, only a handful of people know of my being here. And Shaw is not one of those people."

"I'm sorry Elsa,"

"I promise you Moira they tell a soul!" Elsa was desperate. She couldn't bear to think that after all that her uncle and aunt had done for her, she was about to leave them permanently. "Please,"

There was the sound of stones crunching beneath feet and the slight smell of lavender. Charles looked down at his new friends, wondering what they seemed so flustered about. It didn't take him to long to assess the situation; a quick reading of Elsa's mind did it.

He felt sympathy for the girl, he really did. She had abandoned everything she had known only to be asked to abandon everything she had acquired since then.

He looked to Moira and gave her a questioning look.

"Moira, perhaps we should consider-"

Moira pulled up her hand to stop Charles from speaking any further.

"Charles, please leave CIA business to the CIA,"

"CIA?" exclaimed Elsa, bristling with anger and frustration, "This has nothing to do with the CIA! It's Charles' home and you have no right to say otherwise!"

Elsa could imagine that her latest words would not help her cause. She had insulted Moira and she was the very person she was seeking permission from. Moira shook her head, clearing unimpressed by Elsa's childish behaviour and walked away from the situation. As she entered the front compartment of the truck, she was still shaking her head.

Elsa flared up for a moment, thinking the most venomous thoughts she could think of.

'_Homo-sapiens.'_

Elsa turned to Charles and clasped him arm, hoping he would be able to see sense.

"Charles, please? Can't I call them and give them the address? I mean what if they need to see me? What if I need to see them? What if-"

"Alright, alright," laughed Charles, interrupting the girl. He placed a hand on her cheek and gave it a quick squeeze. "You're right. It's my home and, you're a part of it now. There'll be a telephone in the kitchen when we arrive,"

Elsa grinned. She couldn't believe it had taken this much effort but she was mollified nonetheless.

"Thank you,"

Charles smiled quickly, before leaving her side and joining Moira in the front of the truck. Elsa sighed, throwing her hands deep into the pockets of her coat. She felt a little proud. She had always been good at getting what she wanted. But the past months had been hard on her and this little victory was something to be locked away and kept intact.

It was a little cold and so automatically, Elsa pulled her garments tightly around her. The weather was cold, but the feeling between herself and Alex was even colder. Alex had not tried to reconcile with her, not even offer her an apology for his outburst not a day ago. She had felt bad enough as it was; Alex's accusations of 'murderer' did not help.

Even as she began to think about, Elsa could feel her spirit dampening. She got into the back of the jeep and sat in the furthest corner.

Elsa hardly noticed Raven snuggling up beside her.

"Are you alright?" Elsa heard Raven ask.

"I'm fine,"

"Alex was out of line before," continued Raven, either ignoring or completely oblivious to Elsa's sharp tone, "He shouldn't have-"

"I said I'm _fine _Raven," Elsa snapped. She immediately felt terrible for her tone as she examined the blonde girl's wounded expression. "Sorry,"

The girls turned their heads as Erik and Hank entered the jeep. Hank took his place beside Raven as Erik sat in the opposite Elsa. Sean and Moira's partner Levene were the last to come in, the doors shutting behind them. Evidently, Alex was riding up front with Charles and Moira.

"None of us blame you, you know," muttered Raven quietly.

"Except for Alex," Elsa commented.

"No," said Raven, shaking her head, "I know he said those things, but I know he didn't mean it."

"I beg to differ," interjected Erik. The entire group looked to him, to which he replied with his normal cool exterior. He flashed Elsa a small smile as he explained his words. "You don't say things you don't mean. Alex meant what he said, he just never meant for you to hear it,"

"Thank you Erik," said Elsa, her voice heavy with sarcasm, "I feel so much better now,"

"Well I'm glad I helped," Erik's wink was hard to catch, if fact none of the others seemed to have seen it. But it had not been lost on Elsa.

"I think I'll just stay away from now on," she laughed, crossing her legs.

A sly smile spread over Raven's face. "I think that'll be a little hard,"

"Why?"

"The way you two flirt, you won't be able to keep away,"

Elsa's eyes widened and she was sure, if she had been consuming a drink, she'd be spluttering all over the place. "Excuse me? _Flirt?_ We do not _flirt_. _I_ do not flirt,"

"Really?" asked Erik, clearly happy to join in this game. Elsa felt a little downhearted. If there was anyone in the group who would support her, she was sure it would have been Erik.

"Yes," replied Elsa through gritted teeth.

"I don't know..." said Sean in a sing-song voice.

"Well know you do," snapped Elsa, half amused and half irritated at her friends' immaturity, "We don't flirt, I don't find him attractive enough to flirt with and I do not fancy him!"

"We never said you did," snickered Hank.

Elsa stopped dead in her tracks. She had certainly never meant for that last part to come out of her mouth. In fact, she wasn't even sure if she meant. Perhaps it was her sub-conscious. Perhaps she should stop speaking from this point on.

"Well, for your information I already have a boyfriend!" Elsa exclaimed, hoping that would catch them off guard. There was quite grumble and the feeling of moving wheels, indicating they were now setting off.

"Is he a picture in a magazine or is he just in your head?" laughed Sean, ignoring the bumps in the road.

"He is a real boy thank you very much!"

"Oh yeah?" smirked Sean, "What's his name?"

Elsa stopped for a moment. She actually hadn't been thinking when she had shrieked that she had a boyfriend and she realised she had been thinking of one person the entire time. Suddenly, Alex was completely out of the picture.

"Warren," Elsa mumbled.

"Warren? Isn't that what a rabbit lives in?" scoffed Sean. His face suddenly took on a brighter hue, as if he had been abruptly enlightened. "Is your boyfriend a rabbit?"

"_No!_" exclaimed Elsa, absolutely exasperated, "My boyfriend is not a rabbit!"

"So where is he then? Where does he live?" asked Hank.

"Let me guess; in a warren?" Even Raven seemed content to label Elsa a zoophile.

"No," said Elsa slowly, "back home,"

"Well that's as good as over," declared Sean, as if what he said was the absolute truth. Finally registering Elsa's blank expression, Sean explained; "Long distance relationship? That can be translated into 'never going to work'."

"No it doesn't," retorted Elsa, crinkling her nose.

"No? Well, take Odysseus and Penelope. Spent ten years with the sea dividing them didn't they? We all know how that turned out,"

"Yeah, he returned to her,"

"After ten years! Ten years fighting a war, frolicking on an island and knocking up fish women,"

Elsa shrugged her shoulders. She was pretty that wasn't entirely what had happened in the Odyssey, but she was about to dictate about a subject matter she knew nothing of. "Whatever, he still returned to her,"

"So what?" laughed Levene, who up until this point had remained silent, "You're going to return to this Warren boy? Warren the Rabbit Boy?"

Elsa didn't know what to say. She hadn't been thinking of Warren all that much and whenever she did, all she felt was pain and humiliation. She didn't know if she was ever going to return to her childhood friend or if she had even forgiven him yet.

If she ever would.

Elsa rocked a little in her seat, completely oblivious to the ramblings of her friends. They all seemed to be completely absorbed in coining secret agent names for Warren or what types of conditions he lived in.

Erik seemed to be the only sane person in the compartment. He sat quietly, his arms at his crossed legs, his countenance cold and unforgiving.

Elsa looked up only for a second and in that time, she caught Erik's eye. He shook his head and smiled quickly.

"Ignore them," was all he said. Ignore them. Ignore who? Or what? Ignore the quips about Alex? Or ignore the forth-coming thoughts of Warren Worthington the First and all that could have been? Elsa suspected it was the former, considering Erik hardly knew a thing about her past. But she couldn't help but feel that, despite his lacking in telepathic skill, Erik was just as sharp and intuitive as Charles.

If not more.

The jeep came to a slowed stop and soon the bumps and humps ceased. Elsa could not believe that so much time had passed. But perhaps, she had been so caught up in her thoughts and her vehement argument that she was _not _in love with Alex Summers, she had not noticed the time or the distance.

The doors swung open and one by one, the occupants in the rear compartment pilled out. Elsa was the last to leave, with Erik holding out a hand to steady her as she stepped off. She nodded Erik a thank you but was quickly overcome by the sight before her.

To say it was a large mansion was an understatement. Xavier Mansion was not large, nor was it big; it was a world all of its own. It sat upon a tiny slope, easily reaching the third storey mark (if not more) that could house at least three dozen rooms. It was a very pretty building too. A light sandy shade, decorated elegantly with spiralling flourishes and pointy sections of roofing. It looked more like a modern castle, set against an enchanting backdrop of bright green grass and a perfectly manicured garden. Elsa was painfully reminded of Worthington Manor, the place where she had spent most of her childhood frolicking around in. Worthington Manor had been slightly larger, but the two sprawling homes could have easily been mistaken for cousins had they been living, breathing people.

"This is yours?" Sean asked Charles, staring at the mansion in awe.

"No," smiled Charles, his voice as smooth as silk, "It's ours,"

There was a brief silence amongst the group, as they all took in their surroundings.

"Well Charles," began Erik, his voice a little strained yet still good natured, "I don't know how you survived. Living in such hardship,"

Elsa could only imagine the conditions Erik had lived in. This is must seem like a big joke to him.

"Well it was a hardship softened by _me_," commented Raven, weaving her way to the front of the group. Charles took her waist and planted a brotherly kiss on her head.

"Come on," she said, "Time for a tour,"

The group began to move, following in Raven's footsteps. Elsa hung around at the back, rather involuntarily, as she took in the estate. She looked ahead and counted each individual in front of her.

Hank, Charles, Erik, Raven, Levene, Sean and Al-but, where was Alex?

'_Oh, Jesus.'_

Elsa heard him before she saw him.

"Hey,"

Elsa turned around, still walking. Alex caught up and walked beside her, looking more than a little sheepish. His blonde hair fell into his eyes, his pupils constricting in the direct sunlight. His hands were buried deep in his jacket pockets as were hers, as if the teenagers were afraid they'd accidently touch each other.

"Um, I...er...you," he stuttered. Elsa was compelled to roll her eyes.

"What Alex?" she asked rather sharply.

"I'm sorry," Alex finally sputtered, "For what I said before. I was upset,"

Elsa didn't really know what to say. It was an apology of course, but it just didn't seem...fulfilling enough. She hadn't been expecting a full blown apology, but 'sorry, I was upset?'

Finally, she gave him an answer that was sure to set him off.

"Ok,"

"Wait, that's it?" asked Alex, stopping in his tracks and stopping Elsa in the process. He looked more than a little irritated. "Just 'ok'?"

Elsa looked over her shoulder. Already the group had reached the front doors. "You want my forgiveness?"

"Well, yeah," said Alex, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A slow smile spread over her face as Elsa began to walk backwards, leaving Alex in his halted position. Raven was right; she couldn't spend more than a few minutes ignoring him. Was it his rough, handsome exterior? His headstrong, determined drive? Or his stubbornness? The prospect of a challenge? Warren had been so weak and submissive that Alex presented something to work for?

There was a whole plethora of things. All Elsa knew was that if Warren were here, he would have shaken his head at her shameless flirting. If one could call it that.

"Then work for it Summers," grinned Elsa, leaving Alex smiling to himself.

* * *

><p>The cool breeze flapped against his rough, weathered skin as he entered the taxi depot of Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. He could almost laugh at the other arrivals, all clutching their large suitcases and bags, brimming to the seam with clothes and recreational items. There had been a time when he had travelled for leisure, but this was not one of those times.<p>

He was here for so much more than that, something far more important. More important than sightseeing and taking happy snaps with pathetic local monuments.

He pulled out his map and tapped at the spot he had marked with an 'X'. He did not know exactly where she was, only that they were now in the same country once again. He had marked several possible locations all of which had heavy evidence to suggest she might be there. He remembered Dieter once telling him that he had a brother living in the United States, but of course, he never got round to saying where.

He looked behind him, watching his henchmen with detached interest. He had brought two along, feeling a whole army would not needed for this one job. The taller of his henchmen, Othello as he called himself, was sitting upon a concrete cube. He was a large, muscular young man with the strength of twenty oxen. His dark skin tensed at the slightest breeze, his full lips tightly pursed. He hardly spoke a word, but when he did, his tones sounded rich and weighted.

The other comrade, Sail, could be called the complete opposite of Othello. Pale and wiry, he had the look of someone weak and sickly. But that was merely his exterior; Sail was lightning fast, with reflexes that would shame most apex predators.

Both men were young and in fact, were school friends of Warren. They of course lacked Warren's empathy and soft heart, which was what made them such good soldiers.

_'Ah, Warren.'_

Lewis Worthington stroked his blond whiskers as he reminisced his final days in England, not long ago. Warren had been particularly hysterical in those days. The boy had refused to eat, bathe or drink unless Lewis would agree to stay in England and let the whole thing blow over. Lewis almost laughed at his son's weak persona. Warren was a lovely boy, but his good nature and submissive tendencies often got the better of him.

Lewis could not believe that all of this whining, crying and weeping-the maddening histrionics-had all been over a _girl_.

A girl, who most likely, did not reciprocate the love the boy felt for her.

Well, he'd be damned. Lewis was determined to get the girl, at no matter what cost. He had started the job and he wasn't about to let it go. Damn the consequences! Damn if this were to send Warren over the edge, possibly send his son mad! Damn it all!

This was his path and he would not abandon it. Elsa Muller was only a number amongst the sheer mass of mutants living in American alone. And once he was done with her, he'd track them all down.

One by one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I am <em>so<em> sorry I took so long to update! Things have been busy and I recently lost the planner I had written out for this story! You know, like what each chapter entails? I'm still able to write it, but I feel a little lost without it! Anyway, hope this chapter made up for it? I think it's a little on the short side...but...thoughts?**

**Well, we didn't reach thirty but we did come very close!**

**But once again, thank you to all of you who constantly, without fail, review! You've no idea how happy you make me!**


	13. Blockage: Part 1

Chapter 13

-Blockage-

'_What makes old age hard to bear is not the failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories.'-_Somerset Maugham

Part 1

His hands lay still and rigid on the rims of the bathtub, the tense muscles flickering underneath his pale skin. The almost boiling temperatures of the bath water had dropped significantly by now; naturally, considering he had been in there for well over an hour. The soapy bubbles had receded too, merely clouds of white foam here and there on the surface.

He pulled his arms into the water and subsequently, dunked his head in too. He tried his hardest to keep his eyes open but try as he might, they flickered shut.

He stayed underwater for a while, ignoring the increasing pain in his chest.

He wondered what would happen if he stayed underwater, to pay no heed to the aches of his body and cries of his head to come back up.

Would he drown? Well of course he would, but would it be instant? Or would it be slow and time consuming? Would he faint from the lack of air and _then_ drown?

Warren Worthington was considering all of this and came to the conclusion that death was a very complicated thing. Especially if it was self-induced.

Complicated, yes, but effective.

It was only the dulled thuds against the bathroom door that had him come back up.

He was gasping and spluttering, his lungs overwhelmed by the rushing oxygen. He almost flapped a little bit, akin to the way cats react to being washed.

He let out a huff.

"Sir?" Warren heard. There was a knock on the door. "Sir?"

"Y-yes?" Warren managed to say.

"Are you alright?" His guard, Mulciber, asked, "You've been in there for a very long time."

"I'm fine!" Warren called back, slicking back his plastered blond hair off his forehead, "I just...I fell asleep!"

"Miss Nixon will be here soon," informed Mulciber, "In fifteen minutes to be precise. I assume you do not wish to greet her naked and wet?"

Warren grumbled. Cynthia Nixon was without doubt the most puerile and woeful excuse for a female he had ever come across. Simpering and with a slight lisp, she was the epitome of a spoilt brat. She had been born into a wealthy and socially desirable family and so, she had never had to work a day in all her seventeen years.

She was nice-looking, Warren had been kind enough to offer. Like a lemur really; wide eyed and curious. But that didn't make up for her obnoxious personality.

She was some distant cousin of his but that had not stopped Lewis in organizing a union between the two.

'_Cynthia was always your intended,' _Lewis had said, _'Elsa was never an option.'_

Then why, pray tell, had his father allowed such a romance between his son and his worker's daughter?

'_I thought it was all fun. I did the same thing back in my day. I frolicked with the maids and bedded the village girls, but in the end I settled down with your mother.' _

Ever since Lewis had left for America, Cynthia's visits had increased exponentially. Perhaps it was Lewis' way of keeping his son at home and however twisted it may be, a way to keep his mind off Elsa.

Warren suspected that Cynthia was never in fact his intended, and Lewis had simply set up the arrangement in order to stop him from running after the 'Muller Girl'.

Slowly, Warren hopped out of the bathtub. He stood silently in the middle of the bathroom, shivering in his nakedness. He caught his reflection in his mirror and was mildly disappointed.

His face had sunken, his skin pale and blotchy. He had developed dark bags under his dulling blue eyes and his lips had worn thin from constant biting. His once muscular, brisling body had lost most of its beauty; he was now wiry and lean. Elsa would be very disappointed. But then again, it was never his looks she loved; it was him.

He didn't know where it came from or why it was so sudden.

But he began to weep. Weep so uncontrollably he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop.

He longed to see her, to touch her, to hold her close and shower her with kisses. He loved her so much and yet, he had done the most unforgiveable things. Warren began pounding his fists upon the tiled floor, screaming and shrieking as he did. His fists quickly turned red and inflamed, but Warren was nowhere near finished.

Warren could only imagine his screaming and sobbing was unsettling to hear for Mulciber. But there was such a barrier between master and servant and though he would not admit it, Warren sure his father had placed a threat upon all the servants; encourage or sympathize and immediate dismissal would follow.

And so, Warren remained in the bathroom. Mulciber had tried his hardest to break through the bathroom door when Warren's screams had escalated, but it was bolted shut. In the end, Mulciber had recruited other servants of the home and together, the rammed down the door. It had been a curious sight, to see the young Master strewn on the floor, stark naked with fists so red it looked as though he had dipped his hands in blood.

And all the while as they cleaned him, bandaged his hands and soothed kind words into his ear, his lips could only utter one word; 'Elsa'.

Over and over again.

The sharp, burning sting of the whisky lingered in his throat. But years of drinking the stuff had taught his senses to accept the taste and now, the bitterness was only minor to the better half of the drink.

Erik took another sip, levitating his coin absently in his hand as he traversed the many corridors of Xavier Mansion. He had been avoiding training with the others, ditching any sessions for quiet walks around the magnificent home.

It wasn't as though he didn't like the other mutants, although Hank didn't really tickle his fancy. It was just...training...what was it all for? To help the humans? Save them from nuclear destruction?

That, Erik could not agree with and for now, it certainly wasn't his objective.

Right now, he lived to kill Shaw. To destroy him.

And his nightmares, revisiting the image of dead mother over and over again in his mind, re-enforced the deep hatred he felt for the former Nazi doctor. He needed to get Shaw first, the humans could wait.

He came to the third landing, the one that contained most of the mutants' rooms. It was comical really, that Charles had put all of them on the one floor. Like they were at University or something.

One door was slightly ajar and though there was light flitting through it, Erik was tempted to continue on his way. He only stopped as he realised it belonged to one particular mutant, one he had come to like.

Elsa's thin figure was twisted in a strange foetal shape pressed against the wide window of her room. She seemed to be in deep thought and a small smile indicated her thoughts were of a pleasant tone.

Probably remembering something that Summers kid said to her.

Before he had thought twice, Erik pushed open the door and entered the room. Elsa looked up but she did not unravel her knot of twisted limbs.

Erik liked Elsa. Not in an erotic or sexual sense, but something innocent and naive. There was something eluding about her that made Erik want to poke her constantly, to see how much he could get out of her.

A little perverse, but it was how he felt.

Elsa smiled, but did not say a word. Erik stood awkwardly at the door, wondering why the hell he entered in the first place.

"I don't think I'll ever understand your penchant for blonde boys," said Erik, wondering if this change in dialect would throw her off.

"That's because you've had a bad run in with them," Elsa returned in her native tongue.

"So have you by the sounds of it,"

By that, of course, he meant Warren. But Alex was included too. Erik swaggered through the room, placing himself on the daybed Elsa was currently sitting upon.

"Once," said Elsa, holding up one finger.

"Twice,"

At first, Elsa was puzzled; twice? What on earth did he mean by-?

Oh, of course.

"He apologized," Elsa said quietly.

Erik's posture stiffened and his eyes were suddenly cold.

"That makes it better does it?" he growled sourly, "Is that what you're going to do if you meet that Warren boy again? Forgive him?" He snapped his fingers, "Like that?"

Elsa didn't like Erik's tone of voice or his insinuation that she was simpering and vain enough to be so forgiving. She unravelled her limbs and stared right into Erik's pretty blue eyes.

"Is that what you're going to do when you meet Shaw? Forgive him?" she snapped.

Erik's response wasn't exactly what Elsa had hoped for; instead of flustering in embarrassment, he simply cracked a wicked grin. A grin that suggested, 'what do you think?'

"So?" smiled Erik, leaning against the headrest, "You going to forgive him like Alex?"

"Alex was different," explained Elsa, twisting her black ponytail, "He just, said a few hurtful words. Warren on the other hand..."

Elsa went quiet. Warren on the hand had betrayed her completely. Warren on the other hand had taken her heart, pinched it and then sent it smashing to the ground. There were so many things she could never forgive Warren for. He was probably enjoying himself right now, wrapped in the arms of some pretty girl as she popped grapes into his mouth or something.

Erik looked solemn, realising he pushed a tender nerve.

"Charles tells me that your sessions haven't been going so well," he said quietly, edging closer to her.

"He tells you everything," muttered Elsa.

"He says something's stopping you. Something's blocking your ability," said Erik, ignoring her little remark. He sat up and placed a hand on her bare arm. "You should unlock it; imagine what you could do-"

"Is it that simple Erik? Just, unlock it?" asked Elsa angrily, shoving off his hand, "So why haven't you done it? Hmm? What's stopping you from raising submarines whenever you feel like it?"

"It's not my lack of ability we're discussing here; it's yours," laughed Erik heartily, amused at the frail girl's sudden anger. It was like watching a kitten trying to be menacing.

He let her huff in her sudden rage, letting her to calm down a little. It did not long, for within minutes she had sunk back into her foetal position. Her dark eyes took on a distant look and once again, like he had experienced with her times before, a sombre cloud hang over them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Erik asked quietly.

"I don't think that'll happen,"

"You can trust me,"

"I couldn't disclose anything to Charles and he's a telepath," said Elsa, staring at Erik sceptically, "How are you going to break through to me?"

"Because Charles doesn't really get it," said Erik matter-of-factly. It was only six words long, but Elsa felt that sentence summed up everything she felt about Charles. Charles was a good man with honourable intentions, but Erik was right; Doctor of Genetics Charles Francis Xavier just didn't get it.

"Does he?" continued Erik. He looked away from Elsa and stared out her window, his eyes as still as stones. "He doesn't understand that sometimes someone can hurt you so badly, all you want to do is destroy them. Until you take back what they stole from you, you'll never be at peace. And until then, you're dead inside. He just thinks it's all forgive and forget."

For a moment Elsa wondered if it were her he was talking about or himself. But she did not say anything. This was one of the rare moments where Erik ever opened up, at least so intimately.

His eyes shifted back into the room. For a moment they looked together and in that moment alone, Elsa realised they had agreed to discuss that night. There no telepathic messages or tell-tale signs of the face; she just knew.

Erik reached over and from the tray beside him, poured Elsa a glass of water. He handed it over to her, offering her a small smile.

"Thanks," mumbled Elsa.

"Besides, we're patriotic buddies you and I," said Erik, "You can tell me anything."

"Charles sent you down here. Didn't he?"

"No actually. I came here on my own accord." Erik looked at her pointedly. "If you doubt me-"

"I don't,"

Elsa felt naked again, like her first day at Weston Academy and when she had first met the others. She was about to stripped bare again, but this time it was different. This time she was not simply recalling where she came from or what her name was. This time, she was re-entering an abyss in her mind that was so deep and buried, she was terrified of the monsters she might find there.

Erik looked so solemn and bare; Elsa was reminded of Charles' failed attempts to get to her. He had used tissues and chocolates, warm blankets and reassuring smiles. Erik was all no-nonsense and straight to the point. And for some reason, it relaxed her.

"It'll help," said Erik simply.

Elsa doubted that, but after a platonic length, she began to recount the events of that night.

_21__st__ December-1961_

_Banbury, Oxfordshire, England_

_Elsa absently fumbled with the split ends of her dark hair, wincing at its coarse and brittle quality. She hardly took care of her hair as it were; the extreme cold made it doubly worse. Trekking to school through blistering winds and knee high snow, in addition to regularly meeting Warren at the icy moors, saw Elsa spend most of her day's out rather than in. _

_Running a hand over her dry skin, she looked out the window of their humble kitchen and stared at the snow that fell heavily upon Banbury, turning it into a sea of white. _

_Toped with mounds of snow, the naked pines and bare oaks were hardly visible as were the flowers Eva had planted in around the home. Christmastime at the Mullers was less a noisy throng of long-lost relatives and raucous banter, and more a quaint get-together. A simple, charming tree sat comfortably beside the fireplace, adorned with plain maroon baubles and golden tinsel. Youngest Rolf's misshapen, handmade paper angels hung around the kitchen, desperately strung together with bounds of Sellotape. Six worn but charming stockings hung happily on the mantel, still flat and creased and not yet filled. Christmas was not for another few days, but the excitement was quickly swelling._

_Elsa watched her mother tend to her cooking, hovering over various simmering pots and occasionally checking the ancient and oily wall oven. She absently patted at her thick dark hair, quietly humming to herself as she did. Eva knew nothing but hearty English meals, for her Pakistani mother had not had the opportunity to teach her otherwise; she had died when Eva was very young. Nevertheless, she took great pride in her cooking, believing it to be a direct reflection upon her disposition. Her father had instilled in her a great love of cooking, to understand a meal for more than its appearance, a need to reach out to others without language and to penetrate otherwise impenetrable barriers. And when Eva was happy, it spoke volumes in her cooking. _

_Elsa felt a shove at arm and looked up. Friedrich Muller smiled mischievously at his only sister as he attempted to move her elbow completely off the table, as she provided steady resistance. He held out his arm, challenging Elsa to an arm wrestle. _

"_Go on then, sis." He insisting, flexing his fingers in anticipation._

"_You sure you want to embarrass yourself again, Fritz?" asked Elsa, laughing at her brother's immaturity. Even at nineteen years of age, Friedrich still acted like a child. _

"_I'll have you know, that I let you win. It's the chivalrous thing to do." retorted Fritz, pulling up to his feet as he began to assist Klaus in setting the kitchen table._

_Poor Klaus fumbled, dropping forks and spoons in his desperation to leave the kitchen as soon as possible. Elsa smiled sadly at her oldest brother. Poor Klaus was so conscious of his strange appearance; the presence of handsome Friedrich often rendered him completely mute. _

"_What are you frowning at?" asked Fritz, playfully flicking Elsa on the forehead. _

"_Nothing." muttered Elsa quietly, pushing his hand away. _

_There was a sudden burst of cold wind and the howl of the open air. Eleven-year-old Rolf came bursting through the front door, covered head to toe in snow. He stopped in the kitchen, eyeing his family with a cheeky smile. His face was thoroughly red and flustered, breathing still ragged, and his little chest heaving from a lack of breath. _

"_Where have you been?" asked Elsa. "And where's Dad?"_

"_Dad showed me Worthington Labs." replied Rolf, proud of this clear expression of favouritism by their father. In truth none of the Muller children, save for Elsa, had ever been up to Worthington Labs. The large, steely building was not nearly as impressive and extravagant as Worthington Manor and yet, Rolf had always had an urge to visit the place. The other children had never expressed such an interest, for they knew of their father's resentment of the place, but they nonetheless humoured the young boy. _

"_So?" asked Klaus, "Was it worth it?" His bat like ears bent back a little. _

" _No," moaned Rolf, suddenly deflated, "It was all chemicals and coats and smart people running around. Nothing fun to do at all,"_

"_At least now you'll stop yapping about going there," laughed Fritz. _

_Eva turned around and looked to her youngest son. "Rolf, darling get out of those clothes and put on something warm. You'll-Friedrich!" _

"_What?"_

"_All you're wearing is a vest!"_

"_So?"_

"_So? It is freezing! Put on a sweater or something! I don't want to have to wheel or frozen body up to the Worthington's for defrosting!"_

_Elsa shook her head at her brother. He was like that. He wore jumpers in summer and vests in winter. It was as if his body was programmed to its own weather gauge and nothing in the real world really affected him. _

_Scowling, Fritz stormed up the stairs and immediately, the sound of his bedroom door slamming against its frame resonating throughout the house. _

_Chuckling to herself, Eva looked to Rolf. _

"_Where is your father, dear?"_

"_I ran up here," giggled Rolf, "Dad's too slow. He's probably stuck in the snow,"_

"_And you just left him there?" snickered Klaus._

_Before Rolf could retort, again the rush of cold wind entered the home and with it Dieter Muller followed. Dieter shivered once as he slipped off his hat and coat and placed the items on the coat rack. He slipped off his heavy steel capped boots and put on his worn, fur slippers. _

_Eva kissed her husband in welcome, the stocky man returning the kiss._

"_We were beginning to think you got lost out there," smiled Eva, stirring the bubbling soup. _

"_Oh no," laughed Dieter heartily, "I know this place too well," _

"_How was work Dad?" asked Klaus, leaning against the wall._

"_Like every other day; repetitive," returned Dieter. Eva smiled sympathetically, patting her husband on the shoulder. _

_Noticing Elsa, his eyes glittering he beckoned his daughter to him and wrapped her in a tight embrace. _

"_I hardly see you these days Elsa," said Dieter into her hair, "You're barely at home,"_

_Rolf finally pulled off his tattering beanie, shaking his dark hair as his blue eyes glittered with playful malice. He nudged his sister._

"_Been up to Worthington Manor lately, sis?" he asked._

_Elsa suppressed a smile as he pulled away from her father and she lightly punched her brother's arm. "Shove over,"_

"_Speaking of Worthington, how is Warren?" asked Klaus. He did not know Warren very well, but from the few times that he had met him, the boy seemed like a good guy. _

"_He's fine," was all that was said._

_Elsa noticed her father frowning a little; the topic of the Worthington's always made him uneasy. Dieter had grown up with Lewis and it was because of this childhood familiarity that he tolerated his boss so begrudgingly. Dieter took no liking to Lewis' cruel and cold ways. It didn't help that his only daughter was, in some shape or form, his boss's son's girlfriend. The only thing that kept Dieter from packing up Elsa's things and sending her to a nunnery was the concrete fact that Warren was not his father. Warren was a kind and honest kid and quite frankly, any father would be lucky to have found such a gentleman for their child. It was the possibility of a marriage relation between himself and Lewis that had Dieter swaying with nausea. _

_Shaking his head, Dieter looked around. He frowned. "Where's Friedrich? I thought he came home before I did,"_

"_He's here," explained Rolf, "He just went to get changed,"_

"_Wasn't wearing a vest again was he?"_

"_What do you think?" _

_The family chuckled heartily at Fritz's expense._

_After the laughter had died down, they remained in silence. Allowing the strong scents of pumpkin and spices to fill up the small kitchen. _

_The silence was broken however, but a rhythmic knock on the front door. Dieter sighed as he got up from his seat, scratching his head as he walked over to the kitchen window. He peered through the curtains, eyeing their visitors. _

_The front door was a good few metres from this viewpoint, but it always gave the occupants a spying eye on any visitors. _

"_Who is it?" asked Rolf. _

"_It's Lewis," Dieter said simply._

_Elsa's ears pricked up._

_Lewis was here? _

_Now that was a surprise. Lewis hardly ever came round, if not to hand out bonus cheques or second hand gifts. Perhaps he was here to explain his son's strange behaviour over the past few days. Warren had been awfully platonic, and exasperatedly tiring; it made Elsa wonder if he was ill or something. He seemed to be constantly on edge, as if something bad was bound to happen. _

"_And?" asked Eva. Elsa noticed her mother had turned a little red at Lewis' name and for a moment, Elsa's mind wondered. She had once found an old photograph of the two, perhaps in their teens but when Elsa had asked, her mother had simply waved off the picture. _

"_It's bad enough I have to see him at work," muttered Dieter, as the door was knocked upon again, " I don't want to have to deal with him at home," grumbled Dieter._

_Pouring the soup into six bowls, Eva snapped at her husband in an exasperated tone. "He's your boss, Dieter. And your friend; It'd be rude to leave him at the door,"_

_Dieter flared up and for moment, husband and wife stared at each other with such severity, it frightened Elsa. Eva was the one to break the stare and quietly muttered; "Well it is,"_

_Frowning, Dieter left the kitchen and headed to the front door._

_Elsa peered through the kitchen window her father had just been at and looked out into the darkness. There were a bunch of men outside, mainly young men by the looks of it. A few seemed aged and worn and some she even recognized from Worthington Manor. Workers of course. _

_One of those she recognized was a tall, dark skinned boy Elsa knew to be Othello. He was a school friend of Warren's but since he had left school, he had been working for Lewis Worthington. _

_Klaus moved round the table, and stood near the living room, yet out of reach. Cleary he wanted to hear the forthcoming conversation without being caught._

_The sound of the front door opening was quickly followed by the sounds of conversing voices. _

_Lewis Worthington's voice was clear cut and very formal. _

"_Evening, Dieter," Elsa heard._

_Elsa poked round and saw Lewis' impressive structure in the doorway. But in the half light, she couldn't tell what his expression was. She felt a tug at her elbow and was yanked back by her mother. _

"_Evening Lewis," they heard their father say, equally calm and formal, "Forgive me, but I don't remember scheduling dinner or anything...?"_

"_Oh, no. No, nothing of the like," chuckled Lewis, "I actually came here for something else,"_

"_Something else?" Dieter asked, a puzzling note in his voice, "And your men; what are they here for?" _

_Elsa scanned Klaus' face, trying to detect even the slightest change in expression. What was going on?_

"_They came to help me, actually," replied Lewis' voice, "Help me get rid of something,"_

"_Rid of something?" laughed Dieter, a little confused, "What on earth do you mean-?_

_Elsa's knotted her brow. Klaus looked suddenly alarmed. Dieter's sentence hung in the air and all she could hear was the sound of his mouth gurgling. Her panic rising, Elsa swiftly joined her brother. _

_She almost fell back. _

_Dieter had fallen to his feet, convulsing a little until he finally went still. Lewis stepped into his house and two men Elsa recognized to be Othello and Sail stood behind their boss. Elsa's felt like whimpering._

_What was going on?_

_Elsa could feel Klaus beside her, feeling quickening breath against her neck. Neither of them spoke a word._

_It was a quick and sudden movement, but the deed itself slowed down in her eyes. _

"_I'm sorry I had to come down on you like this," Lewis pulled out a small revolved from his pocket and held it over Dieter's still breathing body. "No hard feelings though. Right old chap?"_

_And with those petty words, Lewis sent two consecutive bullets through Dieter's skull. _

_Elsa's breath caught in throat and for a moment she felt as though she was choking. The world was spinning and nothing was making sense. She could only hardly feel her brother's hands on her, screaming at her to move._

_Elsa feel into the kitchen, her hands landing roughly on the stone floor. There was screaming all around her, her vision blurring heavily. _

"_What's going on? What's happened?" she heard Eva saying, the panic evident in the older woman's voice. _

_Elsa felt as though as her ears would burst as her mother's blood curdling shrieks filled the small cottage. _

_She felt someone's hands on her arm and she was quickly hauled back up. _

_Friedrich's handsome face was wrought with terror and he asked Elsa again and again what happened. _

"_I don't-I don't know," Elsa managed to say, her brother's grip tightening on her shoulders, "I think...i think-Dad's..."_

"_Where's Mum?"_

"_She's holding them off,"_

_Klaus came sliding back into the kitchen, fresh blood dripping from his fangs. _

"_Holding who off?" shrieked Fritz. A synonymous shudder shattered through the four children as a shot was fired. _

"_Mum," explained Klaus, "With a force field,"_

_Would that explain Klaus' relatively calm stance. Eva's mutation had always been handy, especially in storms or car travels. This seemed to be the perfect time to use it._

"_And Dad?"_

"_He's dead," Klaus uttered those words so simply, it seemed as though it hardly mattered. _

_Rolf practically burst at these words, the shivering eleven year old sobbing and weeping. Elsa's grabbed her youngest brother and held him against her chest. _

"_She's holding them off, but it won't be for long," said Klaus, "We-" _

_His sentence hung cold in the air as the wrangled noised of their mother's dying cry echoed in their ears. Klaus' ears lay flat against his head, his fangs bared. _

_He grabbed Fritz by the shirt and spoke directly to him. _

"_Fritz, with me," He looked to Elsa, "Quick! Upstairs! Grab the bright yellow travel bags in your bottom cupboard." Rolf was practically wailing now, his cries mingling with the sounds of struggle at the front of the house. Klaus grabbed Elsa's shoulder and shook her once, bringing her back to her senses. "Elsa! Got it? Take Rolf with you." _

"_Yeah," Elsa said absently,"_

"_What are you going to do?" wailed Rolf. _

"_Destroy them," was all Klaus said. Klaus grabbed Fritz's hand, the young teleporter simply nodding and in a flash of flames, the two brothers were gone. _

_The blood was pounding through Elsa's veins profusely. Her head was spinning as she tried to catch on to what had just happened. _

Dad's dead.

So's Mum.

They're here to kill us_._

_Elsa felt Rolf's hand tugging at her own and suddenly, she remembered what she was told to do. She took him by the hand and literally flew up the stairs. _

_She and Rolf shared a room, so there was no need to separate to collect belongings. Elsa hurried around their room and slammed the door, making sure it was locked. She began collecting the yellow bags and other various items, stuffing them in too. The yellow bags had been Dieter's idea of a safeguard in the case of evacuation. He had always been fearful of the nuclear advent and for months now, they had been hoarding foodstuffs and various other essentials. _

_Not that that mattered now. _

"_Elsa?" _

_Elsa swivelled round. Rolf was standing as still as tree, his hands by his side, his eyes red and soaked with tears. _

"_Rolf hurry up, grab a coat-"_

"_What's happening?" Rolf whispered quietly. He grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and wiped his nose. He let a small sob as he grabbed his sister by the waist. _

"_Why is this happening?" he repeated into her hip._

_Elsa felt like crying too. Of course, she did not have the answers to Rolf's questions and she doubted she ever would. _

_She stroked his head._

"_I don't know darling-"_

_THUD! THUD!_

_The door rattled in its frame, the sound of grown men thudding against it. It shivered once again, the key rattling in its lock._

"_Oh, God,"_

_Without a moment to think twice, Elsa grabbed her brother and their possessions and yanked him halfway across the room. _

_She quickly bent down and fumbled for the trap door knocker. She had to be quick; Lewis' men were close to breaking down the door. The trap door had been secured long before Rolf had been born. It encased a staircase that lead directly to the back area of the house, closest to the back door. _

_Elsa wasn't sure if Klaus and Fritz were there, but given their current predicament, it was all she could do. _

_Finally, she managed to open up the trap door. She ushered Rolf in._

"_Come on," she urged, a little impatient. _

"_Since when...?" Rolf looked half puzzled, half amused. He had never know of this door. _

"_Don't ask questions, just get down there,"_

_Rolf nodded once and immediately obeyed, running down the stairs. _

"_Wait for me at the bottom alright?" Elsa called. _

"_Okay!"_

_Hauling two of the packs onto shoulders and the other two in one hand, Elsa headed down the stairs, securing the trap door as she went. _

_She stayed beneath it for a minute, listening for Lewis' men. _

"_Where the hell are they?" one cried, as they finally broke in. _

"_They're probably in here," growled another, "You know what mutants are like,"_

_Despite everything, Elsa smiled to herself. Clearly, they didn't. _

_She continued down the long stairs, skipping two and three steps at a time. _

_Elsa stopped suddenly. _

_There was blood all over the curving steps. Fresh and black in the half light. Elsa slowed down, carefully avoiding the small pools as she descended. _

_The most horrid things were running through her mind, none of which she hoped were true. _

_As she descended further, she heard something that stopped her heart. _

_Rolf's groans thudded in time with her slowing heartbeat. She could hear the sound of something blunt pounding against his young flesh, every moan in time each blow. _

_Elsa dropped everything and ran down the remainder of the stairs, screaming like banshee as she did. _

_Rolf's crumpled and lifeless body lay at her feet, his limbs completely battered as they lay in various and distorted positions. His sweet face was covered in blood, his hair matted with the stuff. _

"_No. No,"_

_Elsa bent down and cupped her brother into her hands, wailing as she held his bloody body close to her chest. _

_She looked up and there, standing over them, was the perpetrator. Elsa did not know who this man was, only that he was a murderer. A cold, merciless child killer. _

_The henchman stared right back at Elsa, smiling menacingly at her as he raised the hammer he had used to slaughter Rolf. It was still glinting with the boy's blood. _

_Elsa screamed as she avoided an incoming blow, the hammer hitting hard into the wall. She was still clutching her brother's body and in a moment of complete heartache, she made the decision to leave him. The henchman was trying to regain himself, his composure and his strength, giving Elsa valuable time. She carefully stepped over her brother's body as she desperately tried to get out. _

_She yelped as he pulled her back, slamming her onto the ground. He climbed on top of her, holding his elbow against her throat. _

_Elsa struggled against his large frame, the breath in throat leaving her rapidly. She was sure she was going to die. She felt tears sliding down her cheek. _

_And then, suddenly, he was gone. Someone had pulled him off and now he went flying out of the stairwell exit. _

_Elsa quickly followed, just in time to watch Klaus tear off the henchman's head with one swift movement of his jaw. _

_The back room was splattered with blood and dirt. Fritz was struggling with two henchman, slapping them back with the sharp blade of a kitchen knife. Klaus too had recommenced his battle, ripping flesh apart with his hands as the remaining henchman stood their ground. _

_The entering door of the back room slammed open, allowing two men to enter. _

_One she did not recognize, the other one..._

"_Tom?"_

_Tom Eastham stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with Elsa. Elsa did not know Tom very well, only that he was a worker of sorts for Worthington Labs. And that he was a mutant. _

_He was shackled and chained, with blood all over his muscular body. Elsa knew he wasn't here by choice. _

"_I'm so sorry," Tom whispered. _

_Elsa frowned for a moment, wondering what the hell he meant. _

_A battling henchman noticed Tom's arrival and in joy, yelled; "You're here! Finally! Get this done will you?"_

_Get what done?_

_It was strange and alien, but when it hit Elsa why Tom was here, it made her want to give up completely. Tom's mutation was paralysis and the only way to subdue them..._

"_NO!"_

_Fritz and Klaus simultaneously fell, clutching their ears as they convulsed on the ground. Elsa struggled to maintain her balance, wondering why her feet would not allow her to move. Now that they were defenceless, it was easy for the henchmen. _

_Elsa screamed at the top of her lungs as both of her brothers' brains splattered on the floor. _

_She did not stop screaming, even as she fell to the ground. Even as flailed her hands around and banged her fists upon the floor. Even as a figure picked her up and threw her outside into the ice cold weather. _

_Elsa was brought back to life by the freezing snow, shivering in her nightgown. _

_There was so much going on inside her head, Elsa was afraid it might explode. Not yet though, not yet. First she'd deal with this idiot. This idiot who brought her-_

_But his blonde hair caught her eye, his blue iris' looking translucent in the dim light. _

_Elsa fell back into the snow and began screaming again at the top of her lungs. _

Warren.

**AN: Hallo, hallo! I know it's been a while, but I'm currently towards the end of exam week and whilst I have about two other stories to update, I felt that I had to update this first! Yeah, so like I said, action scenes aren't my best. This chapter looked brilliant in my head, I wonder if that translated onto this document...? I might go back and edit it, but we'll see. **

**Anyway, I'm really sorry I didn't thank anonymous reviewers, 'Saadhana' and 'Me' last time! I hope you didn't think I don't like anonymous reviews! BECAUSE I DO! Thank you for your support! Also, thank you LizziePixie-Aiko who never fails to review and actually reads my author's notes. **

**I do have the second half of this chapter, but it's still going through some writing and editing! Keep your eyes peeled!**


	14. Blockage: Part 2

Chapter 14

-Blockage-

Part 2

"_Elsa, Elsa, please!" _

"_Get off!"_

"_Listen to me!"_

"_No!"_

"_Elsa, shut up and listen! Please, let me-"_

"_God, no! Get off me!"_

"_No, listen-"_

_They fell into the snow in a tangled mess, with Warren clutching onto Elsa's frame desperately as the girl struggled to get away. They wrestled for a while, tossing and turn into the snow, rolling in the coldness and the accumulating dampness . Finally, with a slightly hard shove, Warren managed to pin her down. _

_Elsa was beyond control at this moment, hissing and scratching at her childhood friend as he struggled to gain a firm grip on her. She sobbed profusely, hurling obscenities at him._

_Warren managed to pull her up and hold her to his chest, planting wet kisses into her hair. _

_His arms tightened around her and Elsa realised Warren's pure strength would have her secured in this position. She decided to comply, though right now, the very smell of him made her want to hurl. _

"_Please," he whispered releasing his grip a little, "We don't have much time,"_

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over again, "He made me come, he made me…"_

"_How did they know?" Elsa uttered these words in a bare whisper, slightly nauseous at the way Warren's presence calmed her down. _

"_I told him," Warren said finally. _

_Elsa felt as though a brick had been dropped onto her stomach. She had never told anyone about her family's mutations, including her own. The only human who knew was Warren. _

_He had betrayed her. _

_He had betrayed her._

_That singled sentence circled in her head, over and over again. _

_Before Elsa was able to voice her disgust, Warren pulled her out to arm's length. He looked directly into her eyes as he spoke. His eyes were red and brimming with tears._

"_You need to leave," he said, his voice surprisingly even, "Go south, I'll head them off the other way," _

"_What?"_

"_It's not safe anymore," Warren pressed, "I didn't mean for him to find out but when he did, I couldn't….there was nothing…"_

_Elsa pushed herself out of his arms and stood up, careful to be out of sight of the house. Warren stood with her._

"_You have to leave, you need to get away," he said, advancing after her a little. _

"_No," was all Elsa said. Where exactly was she supposed to go? Who exactly was she meant to turn to?_

"_Do as I say,"_

"_Where am I meant to go?"_

"_I don't know," shrugged Warren. He looked over his shoulder, making sure none of the henchman were coming out to check if he had done the deed, "Just get as far away from this place as you can,"_

_Elsa looked down at herself. She was soaked to the bone from the snow and her nightgown was peppered with fresh dirt. But what really made her head spin, was the dark redness upon her hands. _

_None of this was real. It couldn't be. It was happening all too fast. Maybe if she pinched herself…? _

_No. That didn't work. _

_This was real._

_This was real._

_This was real._

_She looked to Warren. He was staring at her with the most sombre expression, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes shedding rivers. She couldn't quite comprehend what Warren had just done, or rather, that he had participated. She wanted to hurt him, to break his skin and watch him bleed. He had betrayed her in the most awful way and the least he could do was let his blood run onto the ground. _

_But really, as he advanced towards her, all she wanted to do was to envelope herself in his arms. To feel his warmth, to hear his heart beating against her ear. _

_She wanted to his comfort and she wanted his love. There was no one left for her now. Only Warren. _

"_Come with me," Elsa finally said. _

_Warren smiled sadly and shook his head. He wrapped his arms around her._

"_I can't," he said. _

_He tilted her chin up to his own and crushed their freezing lips together. The kiss lasted only a split second, but to the torn lovers it seemed like a lifetime. _

_Warren pulled away. "Go,"_

_Elsa was hesitant. Her feet seemed numb and that kiss made her feel dazed and confused. Did she love her family's murderer? Was he a murderer at all? How big a part did he play in this? Had he lead them here? All these questions and more were swirling in her head and the more that they did, the more Elsa's blood boiled. _

_Warren gave her a hard shove, his voice broken with tears. "Elsa please! Go!"_

_Elsa began to back away, the cold no longer affecting her. Warren ushered her on, like a master disciplining their pet._

_Before she knew it, Elsa broke into a jog. And then a run. _

_Elsa stumbled as she ran forward, falling over feet as she ran through the cold snow. Her feet were bloody and bruised and searing with pain. But she had to keep going. She had to. _

_She ran past the trees, dodged the puddles and scurried past the moor. The very one where she and Warren had spent so much time as children. She did not notice a stray branch on the ground and as a result, she tripped and fell flat on her face. Elsa pulled herself up in groans, every movement sending sears of pain through her muscles. She looked back over her shoulder. _

_Warren was merely a blimp in the distance now and yet, in her mind, his traitorous face was forever imprinted in fine detail. There were the sounds of joyful cries and in conjunction with an almighty BOOM!, the Muller home went up in flames. _

_The fire danced before Elsa's eyes and for a moment, she was unable to do anything but stare. Elsa clutched her heart, her breath caught in her throat as she wept. She fell to the ground heavily, her exhaustion suddenly overcoming her. She slapped her hand over her mouth, careful to make her wails silent. _

_But there she lay, in the middle of muddy moor, covered in dirt and blood, with the smell of burning flesh quickly filling her nose. Nothing could ever compare to this and nothing could ever repair her. She was going to get these bastards, Warren included. No remorseful kiss could persuade her, no final acts of kindness._

_When she was well enough, they'd all pay._

* * *

><p>Alex was shocked. Beyond shocked.<p>

He had known something horrid and sinister was behind Elsa's pretty and monotonous face, but this?

This was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

He was currently hiding behind a small, yet relatively tall pot plant situated quite strategically against the door of Elsa's room. He had been coming back from training and as he passed the opened room, he couldn't help but listen in.

If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have bothered. But hearing Elsa and Erik's voices, together, made him curious.

And so there he had stood, listening carefully and with complete attention as Elsa unravelled her past to Erik.

Alex felt slightly stung at this. Though they had not known each other for too long, he thought that if there was anyone she would run to, it would be him….

Clearly not.

What really had Alex stumped was the way Elsa had delivered the whole thing. Not once did she break down and weep, not once her voice waver. She was clear and calm, as if she was simply recalling someone else's tale rather than her own. But then, he expected that. He knew it himself.

Sometimes, traumatic events become so heavy to bear, you end up going numb. Nothing can touch you anymore.

Alex pressed his ear against the door, trying to hear the remainder of the conversation.

"Do you still love him?" asked Erik's voice.

Alex pressed harder.

"I don't know," Elsa muttered.

"There's to be no confusion; yes or no?" Erik said sternly.

Elsa did not return an answer, but Alex expected she had given a non-verbal response.

Alex cursed; he was in a hidden position and so he could not actually see anything.

"Remove him from your mind," Erik's voice said, "I know it's easier said than done, but you need to,"

"What difference does it make?" Alex heard Elsa ask.

"Because more than the trauma that stems from your family's slaughter, it's his betrayal that is holding you back the most," said Erik, matter-of-factly, "You're confused. You thought someone loved you and then they did something like this. He's weak, a coward and above all...human. Humans aren't worthy of mutants and this is a good example as any. If he truly loved you he would stopped what happened. Or killed himself in the shame of participating,"

"Maybe he did," muttered Elsa.

"I highly doubt it,"

"He's a part of me, Erik," Elsa said, "I can't just let it go; good or bad,"

"You need to. You won't be able to move on if you don't," Erik said, "Use Summers as a distraction if you need to. He seems keen,"

Alex's jaw dropped.

A distraction? A _distraction?_ That's what he was?

"What if _I'm_ not keen?" Elsa asked.

Ok, that hurt a little.

"In time you will," Erik said. Alex could just tell the older man was grinning from ear to ear.

"You're so sure?"

"A red-blooded young man with a jaw like that? You won't keep away for long; if all else fails to attract you, his physical appeal will."

"You overestimate my vanity, Erik,"

"He's blonde; you'll go for him," Erik said, "Besides, he looks like...a little...cute...bunny. Doesn't he?"

Alex furrowed his brow. First he was a distraction and now, a bunny? Either Erik was being completely and utterly sarcastic, or maybe, perhaps, he was being genuine.

Alex suspected the former.

"Yeah I suppose,"

Alex grinned to himself.

"Your turn," Alex heard Elsa say.

"Excuse me?" returned Erik.

"I spilled out my heart to you; it's only fair that you do the same,"

"Something tells me you've already ransacked the deep recesses of my mind,"

There was something strange in Erik's voice. A mix between seclusion and complete openness. Something Alex didn't understand and quite frankly, didn't want to understand.

Alex stood in his place, pondering what had just entered his ears. So much information and all of it was not meant for his ears. At least, not yet.

He wondered if Elsa would ever open up to him in such a manner, or if they were to spend their lives in constant secrecy. He hoped it would be the former, but he didn't want to force anything out of her. In all his twenty-one years, he had learned with force, only comes resistance.

There was a sudden shift in the place of the door and the next thing he knew, Alex had fallen out of his place behind the pot plant and was now face down on the floor. Rubbing his potentially broken nose, Alex looked up a little.

Erik's shoes looked so damn shiny from this level.

Alex flipped himself onto his back and propped himself onto his elbows. Erik was standing over him, his face annoyingly smug. Alex hoped Erik would just leave it, but from the slow grinning spreading on the older man's face, it was clear that Erik was going nowhere.

"I fell," stated Alex. He could feel the warm blood slowly creeping from his nose. He watched a droplet splatter on his vest.

"Oh really?" chuckled Erik, levitating his coin.

"I didn't mean to listen in," explained Alex, figuring he would just rip off the band aid, "It just sort of happened.

Erik did not respond to the remark. He seemed to be some sort of thought.

"I suggest you do not admit this to her," said Erik, "It's a wonder she didn't hear your...your little fall,"

"Yeah, I know,"

"If she wants to, she'll open up,"

"I don't think so," chuckled Alex, "She's seem pretty comfy with you,"

Alex could not see Erik's face properly in the half light, but he could tell Erik was smiling.

"You owe me," Erik finally said.

Alex furrowed his brow. "For what?"

Erik caught the coin in his hand and smiled a smile that was both sincere and malevolent.

"She didn't want you before," said Erik, "Now, I've got her thinking. Any children you beget by her, belong to me,"

Alex chuckled, watching Erik sauntering off into the darkness. He picked himself up and sniffed. Even that hurt.

The blood from his bleeding nose splattered a little, spraying all over his pants.

"Oh Jesus,"

"Ahem,"

Alex swivelled round, thoroughly surprised at the figure before him. Elsa was leaning up against the frame of her door, her arms crossed her chest, her legs crossed at the ankles. A playful smile was dancing on her lips as she surveyed Alex with amusement.

Alex grinned to himself. She may well not be trying to, but standing like this made Elsa look very much like a seductive wench.

Not that that was a problem of course.

"I fell," said Alex, feeling like a broken record.

"I can see that," Elsa said, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Alex placed his hands on his hips. "You must think I'm an idiot,"

Elsa shook her head, taking her weight off the frame. "No. I mean, you are. But, only a little though,"

They shared a small laugh, although that hurt Alex to do so. His placed his hand to his face and felt around his sodden nose. It was clearly broken. He could literally feel the split cartilage.

Noticing this, Elsa held out her hand and offered it to Alex.

"Come," she said, "We'll clean you up before we show your nose to Charles,"

Alex was a little hesitant, wondering if this was some sort of variant of 'come back to my place for coffee'. And he realised he was at a loss if this were the case.

'_No,'_ Elsa's voice said in his head. A hint of giggle was detectable. _'Not coffee. Not yet.'_

Alex cracked a wicked grin.

"Not yet,"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sank yow as always to LizziePixie-Aiko! And to LaLa-036. And to all those who favourited and alerted! And please, if you have favourited or alerted, please, please review! Anything will do!<strong>


	15. New Revelations

Chapter 15

-New Revelations-

It was a curious thing really, the human anatomy. So simple to the eye and yet, so unbelievably complicated. All the organs and blood and tissue, all encompassed in one shell of bones, limbs and muscles. It was hard to believe that all of _that_, was on the_ inside_.

And what was really curious, if one was bored enough to examine, was the way the limbs themselves moved. The way the muscles flexed underneath the skin, the way it swung in its socket in response the activity.

Elsa slumped back on the bench, resting her arm over her eyes. It had really come to the point where she was mesmerised by the way arms and legs moved.

She didn't know why she even came in the first place, to the gym. She hardly worked out by herself, what made her think that a crowd would encourage her? But nonetheless, Raven had managed to pull Elsa right out of bed, slap on a pair of woe-some shorts and a sorry excuse for a shoulder less t-shirt and shove her into the gym.

But it wasn't really a gym. More a once entertainment lounge with weights, a tread mill and a few rubber balls shoved in.

But who was Elsa to complain? She wasn't even using it properly.

"Elsa, come on," huffed Raven, her legs moving to a rhythm as she jogged along the treadmill. Her blonde ponytails swung this way and that, much like a horse swatting flies.

"You have to do something," agreed Sean, launching a weighted ball at Hank, who surprisingly caught it neatly in his arms.

"I am doing something," replied Elsa, still slumped on the weight bench, "I'm watching _you_ three doing something,"

Groans of irritation were the response.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you train in here," remarked Hank, placing a towel around his sweaty shoulders.

Elsa sat upright in her seat, her lip pouting a little. "I have so,"

"When?" laughed Raven.

Elsa furrowed her brow and offered her friends a smug smile. "When you weren't around obviously,"

"Oh, come on,"

"Look, I don't exercise," stated Elsa, crossing her legs, "I've never exercised once throughout my entire life. In fact, the closest I've been to exercise was when I almost drowned at the beach when I was five,"

Hank squinted a little, his mouth hanging slightly. "That's not even..."

"Exactly!"

The group erupted into small giggles, although for Sean, Hank and Raven, the laughter was a little breathless. Elsa had no intention to join in the sweaty festivities, nor was she about to be persuaded to do so. She had come along, she was in her gear; what more could they ask of her?

Alex was currently M.I.A, spending most of time in Charles' clinic. Alex's broken nose had not been, altogether, too bad. It had had two distinct cracks that were easily fixed and quite clean according to Charles.

But it was the delicate healing process that had Alex practically under house arrest. Most strenuous forms of physical activity had been banned, with walking and light jogging the only options open to him. Absolutely no type of strain could be allowed, lest his nose crack again.

Of course, Alex was the furthest thing from happy.

Elsa smiled as she remembered Alex's reaction when he had been told lifting weights was no longer a course of training; it had been like someone had launched a grenade into his mouth.

Elsa suddenly heard footsteps coming from the rear of her head and so swivelled round in her seat.

Alex stood about a foot behind her, his angst and frustration rolling off him like waves. He was clad in his usual wood and sweat pants, but his face itself added a whole other element to the mix.

The swelling had died around his nose, any residual inflammation covered up by long, white bandages. The bruises had faded too; once a brilliant array of violets and navies, now simply a splatter of browns and yellows. Violet tones were still there, but they were relatively small patches.

It didn't do any credit to his handsome face. If anything, he looked better when his nose had snapped and the blood had sputtered everywhere.

"Oh ho," cried Sean suddenly, "Lo and behold the Ugly Stepsister!"

"What?" laughed Hank, his brown hair falling into his eyes.

"Look at him!" chortled Sean, pointing at Alex like he was a monkey in a cage, "Even my _butt _looks better than his face right now,"

Elsa giggled as Alex blushed a deep crimson. Now he truly looked like a rainbow.

"But why Ugly Stepsister?" asked Raven, stepping off of the treadmill.

"I dunno," shrugged Sean, "But it seemed fitting. We're like a family now aren't we? There has to be an ugly sibling. If there isn't, the whole universe goes out of balance or something."

"So who's Cinderella then?" asked Elsa, willing to play in Sean's game.

"Uh, me? Isn't it obvious?" scoffed Sean, spreading his arms out to either side, "I am one_ fine_ piece of ass,"

And as if to emphasise his sizzling sex appeal, Sean slapped his right buttock and sent one hell of seductive wink towards Alex.

The others could hardly contain themselves at Alex's startled countenance.

When the laughter settled down, Alex seated himself beside Elsa as he slipped on a pair trainers.

Elsa was quietly repulsed by Alex's wound and yet equally fascinated.

"Is it healing?" she asked, poking him in the side of the head.

His annoyed expression softened and with a slight shrug, answered: "Yeah, the bandages should come off soon,"

Alex got to his feet and started for the rack of round weights. At first, Elsa was stupid enough to think he was merely observing them. It took her a second to realise he was actually intending to use them.

"Ah, no Alex," called Elsa, she herself getting to her feet, "You're not supposed to be lifting weights,"

Alex turned round, his face lit with irritated enlightenment. "Damn. I forgot about that,"

Elsa felt slightly pathetic for it, but it made her feel glad that she wasn't the only one not participating in training. But then, she reminded herself, Alex actually had legitimate claim. She, on the other hand, did not.

Elsa caught Raven's eye. The blonde girl was smiling mischievously, her kind pretty face wrought with an evil playfulness.

"Hey, I've got an idea," giggled Raven, "Elsa, why don't _you _do some weight training? And you could be her guard Alex."

Elsa sent a silent curse to her friend.

With a firm and steady voice, proclaimed; "No,"

"Why not?" asked Alex, suddenly interested. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and furrowed his brow.

"I'm weak," claimed Elsa, grabbing at her sorry excuse for a bicep, "Look at me."

"Small weights then," suggested Alex.

"No,"

"Come on," begged Alex, "I'll be right here. I'll make sure you don't crush your chest,"

"He'll crush it for you," smirked Sean. He nudged Hank in the ribs, laughing as he did. "Geddit? Geddit?"

Elsa ignored Sean's idea of a joke and turned back to Alex. He seemed genuine enough, like he was excited by the idea of training someone. His blue eyes flickered, silently asking her to agree. But Elsa was adamant.

"Look Alex, I really don't," Elsa began. But she was cut off as Alex suddenly grabbed her shoulders and laid her upon the weight bench,"-um, ok,"

"Hold your arms out straight," instructed Alex, staring right down at her, as he placed one circular weight of two kilograms on each end of the rod, "It's pretty light, you should be able to handle it,"

He grinned toothily. "Trust me,"

* * *

><p>The pain seared through her arms like a live thing, licking her aching muscles with heat and pressure. Her thin limbs were practically screaming at her to STOP, her elbows dangerously wobbling at the joints.<p>

Her friends were currently huddled around her, either spouting words of harsh encouragement like Alex, words of comfort like Raven and Hank, or simply laughter like Sean.

The initial four kilograms had now increased to ten. Alex had been convinced that Elsa's lack of verbal objection meant that she was ready to tackle more weight. Well he was wrong now.

"Alex, take it off!" screamed Elsa, beads of sweat falling down her forehead.

"No come on, you're fine!" Alex yelled back, his voice even and steady.

"No I'm not!"

"You can hold it!"

"My arms are about to break Alex!"

"Actually, considering your bones are coated with carbon fibre," interjected Hank, pushing his glasses up his nose, "I'd say it'll take a lot more than ten kilograms to break them-"

"Hank!" shrieked Elsa, her chest heaving like an asthmatic suffering an attack, "Not helping! Alex! Take it off!"

"You can hold it!" urged Alex, "Come on, prove to me you're not weak!"

"I don't _want _to prove I'm not weak!" exclaimed Elsa, her arms shaking, "Take this off my hands before I fling it into that face of yours and cause it even more damage!"

"Elsa, don't be like that!"

"Alex, come on," said Raven, sounding a little concerned, "She's crying..."

"Yeah! Tears of _effort!_" retorted Alex.

"Ahem,"

The group swivelled round, startled by the sudden interruption. So shocked was Elsa by the sudden change of situation, her hands slipped and she let go of the rod. What should have followed was the crushing of flesh against weight and bone under muscle. But luckily, with lightening fast reflexes, Hank and Alex managed to catch it.

They laughed nervously as they placed it back onto its stand, avoiding the scathing looks from Elsa as she sat up.

Charles was standing at the double doors of the gym, clad in his signature tailored pants and woollen sweater, and with a curious smile on his face.

He looked down at the teenagers through his spectacles, at most particularly, Elsa.

"Our, our session?" he asked, with the undercurrent of laughter in his voice.

"What?" asked Elsa and upon remembering, "Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm sorry, I forgot..."

"That's quite alright," smiled Charles. He shoved his hands into his pockets and indicated to the direction of his study. "Just dry yourself off and meet me in my office,"

Still smiling, Charles left the teens.

Elsa felt like slapping her forehead, cursing herself for being so forgetful.

As per her training, Charles had set up tri weekly sessions with her. Mostly, to build her telepathic strength and to work on her abilities. Others, more often than less, turned into therapy sessions.

Elsa let out a loud sigh, allowing all the trapped oxygen to escape her overworked lungs. Without looking at any of them, she snatched a towel of the rack, picked up a water bottle and began to head after Charles.

She only made it a metre or so when Alex grabbed her from behind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his arms behind his back, "I didn't mean to go all commando on you like that,"

He looked to the floor. "I really am."

Elsa flared for a moment, before settling back down. She had never experienced such difficulty with a boy before, someone who didn't bend over to her every whim and desire. It was what made loving Warren so easy. He was so helpless and sweet, she couldn't help but fall for him.

Alex on the other hand, presented a challenge. Whilst he was kind and relatively harmless, he had a strong will of his own. A will, Elsa noticed, often clashed with her own.

With mild nausea, she realised she couldn't stay angry at her challenge for long. He was something to overcome and overcome she would.

Elsa smiled. "Word of advice Alex, next time you try to kill someone...make sure it's not me,"

Alex smirked, cocking his head to the side as he crossed his arms. "Or what?"

"Or I'll kill you myself," replied Elsa. Alex laughed, shaking his head as they parted ways.

Smiling herself, Elsa wrapped the towel around her shoulders and continued on her way. And she remained in that elevated state right up until she reached the double mahogany doors of Charles' study.

Charles' study was an art work of its own, it truly was. He had exquisite taste, with soft tendencies for the aristocratic feel. Deep leather Victorian button back chairs, coupled with an oak coffee table with only the finest embellishments centred the room. Whilst various degrees and framed achievements hung on the right hand side wall as they shadowed a pretty, leather embossed desk.

Elsa stood at the double doors, waiting for Charles to ask her in.

"Very productive training session," commented Charles. He motioned her to enter. "Please sit,"

Elsa obeyed and seated herself in one of the button back chairs, noticing the soft foam moulding against her shape.

"I was sort of pressed ganged," she explained, "I don't usually...I actually hate sport,"

Charles raised his brow, as he took a seat opposite her. "Really?"

"Well, I like football," admitted Elsa, "Who doesn't? But I'm no good at it though. I'm rubbish,"

"I suppose I can divulge that I am not so groovy at sports myself," chuckled Charles.

"You're an intellectual,"

"Yes," agreed Charles, before leaning forward in his seat, "But, you know, the mind can be exercised just as vigorously as the body. And in many instances, the mind is much stronger than the body. Being an intellectual is never a disadvantage."

"Spoken like a true Professor," laughed Elsa. Charles chuckled in agreement. He ran a hand through his thick, brown locks and rubbed his pretty blue eyes. It seemed that Charles had something to ask and from Elsa could gather from his body language, he was searching for a way to ask it.

Finally, Charles spoke up.

"Erik tells me you discussed," he paused, "...some issues,"

"God, I was right," Elsa scoffed, shifting in her seat, "You two share everything,"

"No, we don't actually," disagreed Charles, "I happen to come across that memory when I was working with Erik the other day."

He added as an afterthought, "He has barriers just as big as yours,"

Elsa sighed, pushing her hair off her face. "So what's your diagnosis?"

"That you feel a bit more at ease with yourself?" suggested Charles. Elsa did not respond. She could not say she felt more at ease, but she did feel somewhat unburdened.

"I actually didn't arrange this session so we could discuss your conversations outside this office," explained Charles, "I actually wanted to talk about the Valkyrie."

Elsa suddenly perked up. 'Valkyrie' was something she had mentioned in one of their sessions. She did not know why she called it that, only that it was the most suitable name for it. In all honesty, it frightened her and she had rather hoped Charles would have forgotten about it.

But it seemed Charles had the memory of an elephant.

"What about it?" asked Elsa quietly.

"You mentioned it once and you never spoke of it again,"

"It's not important,"

"Elsa, yes it is," remarked Charles, a little stern, "I'm not about to force you into anything, but part of your being here, being a part of this team is so that you can tap into your full potential. Like it or not, the Valkyrie is a part of you and so, discussion is vital."

Elsa felt she was at a loss. She wanted, by all means, to cooperate. She knew Charles was only trying to help. But, there was something both frightening and fascinating about Valkyrie and the more she came to understand its importance, the more she shied away.

She studied Charles through her dark eyes and finally, without slight hesitation, agreed.

"What do you want to know?"

"Good, good," smiled Charles. He reached out from behind himself and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"I actually wrote some questions down..." he muttered. He flipped through a few pages before coming to the correct one. With a slightly slitted voice, he read the contents of the page.

"When, or rather if, you enter your Valkyrie state, how is it triggered?"

Elsa sniffed. So it had begun.

"It's only happened once," she explained, noticing Charles' fervent note taking, "And when it did, I was...I was really, really angry. I just...I could practically _feel _my blood boiling."

"So anger?" asked Charles, looking up for a brief moment.

"I suppose,"

He paused for a moment, avoiding eye contact with his subject. "Was it...was it the night your family...?"

"No. It wasn't actually," said Elsa, "I think I was too confused that night to feel any anger."

Charles continued to write down notes, his pen flying across the page.

"Why don't you just read my mind Charles?" asked Elsa, watching the movement of his hand across the page.

Charles huffed quietly. He pulled off his glasses as he placed the notepad and pen on his coffee table.

He leaned forward and placed his hands together. For a moment, she was reminded of the time her parents explained how babies were made.

"Because I believe in trust Elsa," said Charles, "I want you to trust me and I can't achieve that if I barge into your mind at every waking opportunity. You're a telepath like me and I wish to respect that. I'm sure that, given the choice, you would not invade my mind without permission?"

Elsa shook her head.

"Not only that, I think...talking about it really will help you," continued Charles, "Getting it out into the air,"

Elsa sighed quietly, feeling that there was no other choice.

"Alright,"

* * *

><p>Charles was in deep thought. He had never come across such a tale in all his life and needless to say he was very interested. He had not noticed the time and as he checked his wall clock, he was shocked to see it read eleven in the evening.<p>

But the late hours did not compare to the amount of information he had gathered. For the past few hours, he had delved into Elsa's past. An attempt to understand this Valkyrie concept.

She had described a particular event in which she and her older brother, Klaus, had gone out for a day on the moors. Unbeknownst to them, some of the village children had been lying in wait. And when the opportunity had presented itself, they had emerged from the shadows and had launched an assault of stones and insults at the poor boy.

Anger. Pure and volatile anger is what Elsa said she felt. She had described an ethereal emotion, something that had made her feel that was literally splitting into two people. That she had felt her body riven.

She had described growing talons from her hands and feet, her wings rising above her as her body began to change into a creature she had never encountered. She had ended up attacking the children, leaving some of them with terrible, crippling wounds.

And once the Valkyrie had left, she had desperately (yet successfully) tried to erase their memories.

It was beyond fascinating, beyond anything Charles had even come across.

He looked to Elsa, her youthful face tired and worn. She was eager to know his opinion and he was more than willing to give it to her.

"From what I've gathered," began the good Professor, "I believe you're telling me this; Valkyrie, is simply an extension of your conscious psyche. It is not a separate entity to yourself, a secondary mutation or anything like that. Something you've hardly encountered, but also something you have at the very least some control over."

Elsa sniffed, knitting her brow. "So you're saying I'm powerful or something?"

"No. No," said Charles, shaking his head, "What I'm suggesting is that your control over your wings, is simply the first stage of Valkyrie. That your mutation isn't the gift of flight, but the ability to morph physically from one creature to another. Into this human-avian creature you've so vividly described to me."

Elsa's face fell, although it was neither a positive nor negative action. "What do I do then?"

"We can block it out. Place barriers that would stop it from remerging," said Charles, hopeful that she would agree, "You said it yourself; you have very limited control over it. Who knows what damage you could wreak under its influence?"

Elsa laughed to herself, leaving Charles more than a little confused. This was no laughing matter.

"You and Erik are like a married couple; you have no common ground," stated Elsa, tucking her legs beneath her, "Either 'embrace it' as Erik says, or 'lock it away' as you say."

"Well, I..."

"If I lock it away Charles, it'll grow," said Elsa matter-of-factly, "It'll grow and grow and one day, I'll have to face it again. And who knows how strong I'll be when that happens. Or rather, how strong _it _will be. I don't want to take that chance."

Despite his own stance on the matter, Charles smiled. He had hoped for a little opposition and he had been open for persuasion. He was proud of her way of thinking, her want for grip and dominance.

"So we'll work on it then?" suggested Charles.

Elsa nodded her head. "I don't want to get rid of it Charles. I just want control."

* * *

><p>Elsa picked at her plate with the thin, plastic fork. She was rather proud of the concoction of food she had gathered; crackers topped with cheese and dollops of sweet-chilli sauce. It was an alteration of a previous meal Alex had once presented to her. An alteration considering he had used gherkins rather than sauce.<p>

But gherkins were disgusting.

Ugly little gherkin.

Elsa was supposed to be in bed, but the kitchen had been rather too inviting. Her stomach had rumbled and that had been her turning point. She didn't usually enjoy mid-night meals, but this was rather nice.

She munched on her late night meal, recalling her conversation with her aunt and uncle not moments ago.

She had been feeling rather homesick and she felt horrid that she hadn't called them. So, picked up the phone she did.

And she was delivered the most wonderful news; Marie was pregnant.

That had been like a ray of sunshine for Elsa.

Her uncle had always wanted children of his own and now, finally, he was granted his wish. Elsa never felt happier. She could only imagine how her guardians felt.

Already she was betting what gender it would be and it should be called. Pregnancy was actually rather interesting.

When it was happened to other people of course.

There was the sound of on-coming feet and as Elsa looked up, she was greeted by Hank McCoy.

He looked rather tired, his eyes a little red as if he had woken up involuntarily. And the fact that Hank was clad in his pyjamas, proved her right. Elsa smiled at Hank's choice of nightwear; a yellow duck printed one suit.

"Hey," greeted Hank, heading for the fridge. He yawned monstrously.

"Hey," returned Elsa, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No," mumbled Hank sleepily, "I had a dream I was eating something and then I woke up and now I feel hungry."

"Right-o," said Elsa, unable to help her broad grin. A little confused, Hank pulled a bottle of water and a pre-packaged plate of leftover pasta from the fridge and sat down across from her.

"You look happy," he said, peeling back the protective film on the plate.

"Yeah," smiled Elsa, "I am,"

"Any particular reason?" asked Hank, smiling himself, "If you don't mind my asking?"

Elsa couldn't hold it in. "My aunt's pregnant. I just got off the phone with her,"

"That's fantastic," said Hank, nodding his head, "My congratulations to your aunt and uncle."

"Yeah," Elsa brushed the crumbs off her shirt, "They've been trying for a baby for a really long time now,"

"Better late than never," commented Hank, waving his fork at her.

"That's true," nodded Elsa. She watched Hank chew down his cold pasta before speaking again.

"I think it was a slap in my uncle's face, every time one of us was born."

"Yes, well sibling rivalry never dies," said Hank, washing down his food with the bottle of water.

"You've had experience?"

"Oh, no," laughed Hank, "No. But I can only imagine,"

"I'm sorry, but pasta?" Elsa asked suddenly, giggling at Hank's choice of a late night meal.

"What?" laughed Hank, "I love cold pasta,"

Elsa shook her head, picking up her own plate as she dumped it into the sink. She paused for a moment, the sponge in her hand. She turned back to Hank and eyed him with a smile.

"Do you think...I mean, do you get the feeling that...?" Elsa waved her hand dismissively, "I don't know,"

"No come on, out with it," encouraged Hank.

"Forget I said anything Hank,"

"Elsa,"

"I don't know," said Elsa quietly, shrugging her shoulders, "Do you get the feeling that things are actually going well? For once?"

"I actually do," agreed Hank. He motioned his head towards Elsa. "Do you?"

"I think so," said Elsa, sitting back at the table, "I think, things are picking up. And everything is settling again,"

"New home," began Hank.

"New friends," chipped in Elsa.

Hank grinned a wicked grin. "New boyfriend,"

Elsa titled her head, her eyes suddenly cold. "Alex is _not_ my boyfriend,"

"I never said it was Alex," laughed Hank. His blue eyes twinkled in the half light filtering into the kitchen.

Elsa sighed, cursing her inability to think before she spoke. Hank chuckled to himself, unable to keep down his cold pasta as bits flew out of his mouth.

Harvard child prodigy was the furthest label she could place on him now.

Elsa scowled, deciding to take the attention off herself.

"How about Raven then?" asked Elsa, eyeing Hank with malice, "When are you going to ask her out?"

Hank stopped suddenly, chewing his pasta slowly. "I have no idea what you're talking about,"

"Oh now Hank; don't deny what I see," giggled Elsa, "You really like her,"

As an afterthought she added. "And, I think, she likes you too,"

Hank crossed his hands in front of himself. "Well, we can talk about relationships _after _we defeat Shaw and his little army,"

"I don't think she'll be able to wait that long, Henry" whined Elsa in a sing-song voice.

Hank looked quietly startled, curiosity evident in his voice. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, from what I've heard you're quite the romantic. You've got her on edge now," explained Elsa. She paused for a moment. "I mean asking for her blood the moment you met her-"

Hank immediately cut in, getting up from the table. "Ok. Terminating conversation now,"

"-I mean, that's off the _scales_ romantic,"

Hank turned around as he left the kitchen, pointing a finger at her as he laughed. "You know, you and Alex are perfect for each other. His douche-baggery is rubbing off on you."

Elsa laughed heartily, pathetically pleased she had managed to ruffle Hank's feathers.

"How about skin samples next time?" she yelled after him, not bothering to respond to his little quip, "Or maybe, a toenail?"

She heard Hank let out a sarcastic laugh, before slamming the kitchen door. And once again, Elsa was left to herself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: S<strong>**ank yow as always to LizziePikie-Aiko, S-Dawg 101, xmen4life, TrappedInLife and of course, Jo! Thanks for answering my call to review! And thank you to the anonymous 'Guest' reviewer! I LOVE ANONYMOUS REVIEWS!**


	16. Safety

Chapter 16

-Safety-

_She was running. Running. Running._

_Her feet were aching, her calves beginning to cramp, and her sides were overwhelmed with searing stitches. Her body was screaming at her to stop, to take even a minute break. _

_But she knew she had to keep going._

_She had to. _

_She didn't know why she had to, only that she needed to. _

_There was something behind her. Something was chasing her, keeping up with her every turn and her every move. _

_She kept on running, determined for that…that _thing _not to catch her.__ She could hear a voice, two voices in fact, coming from straight ahead. _

_But she had no time to listen to their voices, or to decipher what they were saying-_

_She suddenly halted, almost tripping over her feet. _

_She had come to a fork in the trees, with two paths in her way. They seemed the same at first look; both identical in appearance, both revealing nothing but darkness. But somehow, something inside her told her that they lead to completely different places. _

_She took a step back as two figures suddenly materialized and appeared at either path. _

_She did not need to ask for their names. She knew who they were; the sinking of her heart told her so._

_Both male, well beyond their years of adolescence but still relatively young. _

_One bore hair as light as cornsilk, shimmering and glittering in the moonlight. The other sported dark, foreboding locks that were so intense they seemed to dissolve into their surroundings._

_Two different individuals, yet both possessed a part of her heart. _

_They both beckoned to her, urging her to join them. They ushered words of enticement, presenting their quiet arguments that she heard, but did not understand. _

_She looked back and forth between them, unable to decide. Their patience was wearing thin, their annoyance clear. It did not help her of course, for it only made it harder for her to decide. _

_And all the while, she could hear_ it _coming. _

_S__uddenly,__ as a consequence for her indecision, the ground gave way beneath her__._

_She was falling now, falling, falling…. _

_The air whooshed past her, giving her the sensation of flying. But it was not a pleasant experience; the furthest thing from flying._

_She was not soaring through the skies, not high above the clouds. _

_She was falling further and further down, the cold wind cutting at her face. _

_She cried out for her friends, for her brothers __and parents, __but no one ca__me__._

_N__o one came._

_All she could hear was silence. All she could hear was the echoes of her own voice, the quick rush of the wind against her ears. She was falling faster now or at least the ground was coming up faster. _

_It was getting closer and closer and closer…_

Elsa jolted up right in her bed, gasping for breath in quick rapid heaves of her chest. Sweat was trickling down her neck, sticking her nightgown and failing to cool her boiling skin.

She looked around her room desperately, having a slight panic attack when, for a moment she couldn't remember where she was.

She was relieved to see that the curtains of her room were open. The wide circular window allowed to moon to flitter through, providing some light in the dark of the night.

Elsa felt her breath slowing, allowing the air to properly filter into her lungs.

She felt movement against her hand and immediately looked down, startled to see foreign fingers clasping her own.

"Wh..I..." she slurred, paralysed with fear.

The owner of the hand did not speak, only making unintelligible mumbles. Elsa did not know what to do, feeling more and more vulnerable by the second.

She slowly looked up, frightened half way to hell as to what she might find.

Elsa almost tore her lungs out in a mix of anger and joy.

His blonde hair was matted to his face, wet and dirty from cold snow. His blue eyes were swimming with tears, the bottom lids brimming red.

His bottom lip was quivering as he whispered her name repeatedly.

He looked just like the night she left him, standing alone in the blood splattered snow.

_Warren_

Elsa opened and closed her mouth stupidly, unable to express her thoughts in words. Warren did not move to explain himself, nor did he say anything other than her name.

Elsa blinked a few times, trying to pinch away the tears.

She almost felt like sobbing, feeling as though she was losing her mind. She couldn't be, could she? Warren was back home. Back in England. How could he have even found her in the first place?

Elsa's questions soon evaporated when suddenly, Warren's face began to melt away. His features rearranged themselves, slipping over themselves as they morphed his countenance into another.

This companion was not Warren.

It was indeed, Alex Summers.

Elsa immediately felt ashamed at her lack of facial recognition, feeling even more so when she noticed the empathic look on his face.

"Warr-" she began to say, but at once checked herself, "Alex,"

Alex smiled sympathetically, squeezing her clutched hand.

"You ok?" he asked, tucking a sweat tinged lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers caused jolts of electric currents to course through her body. But whether it was because of the sudden cool of his fingers against her hot skin, or something much more, she wasn't quite sure.

"I, er...I, um, bad dream," Elsa stuttered, scratching her forehead with her free hand.

"I figured," chuckled Alex.

Elsa surveyed the boy.

He was still clad in his night shirt and shorts, his skin pale and drained of any blood flow. His hair was mused, his eyes sporting small bags that looked even darker soon in the moon light.

She checked the clock on her table and was slightly shocked to see it read three in the morning.

"How long were you here for?" Elsa managed to ask, rubbing her eyes.

"I don't know," shrugged Alex, finally releasing her hand, "I heard noises from your room, like you were talking to yourself. I thought it was pretty funny actually. But then, you started to sound a little distressed,"

He bit his lip, as though he was a little embarrassed.

"So I thought I'd come in, check up on you."

Elsa frowned. The gesture was kind and she was grateful for the sense of compassion. But she was so dazed and groggy, the right words weren't coming out.

"Did you try and wake me?" she managed to say, her tone a little accusatory.

"I did," said Alex, a defensively, his posture stiffening, "I tried to wake you but you just wouldn't. I was just about to get Charles..."

He trailed off, his eyes falling into a lock with her.

Elsa couldn't say what it was, but she could feel something rousing within her. Something she hadn't felt for Alex thus far. It was something more than gratefulness, something more than just elation.

Unlike most of the men who had occupied parts of her life, Alex had been the least complicated. But this moment in time, this moment right now, made him more cryptic than a set of Egyptian set of hieroglyphics.

She didn't what this now meant, nor if it was supposed to mean anything.

And though it was Warren she had seen first, she was genuinely glad it was Alex who had come to her aide.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, his voice taking a tone of concern.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," mumbled Elsa, yawning a little.

Alex remained silent for a moment, before he looked back to Elsa. His fingers danced daintily over her hand, the tips feeling like feathers against her.

"Maybe you should ask Charles to block those memories from your mind," he said quietly, "I can't imagine seeing...seeing it again and again-"

"It wasn't about that," Elsa said immediately, knowing what he was insinuating. The boy looked unconvinced, leaning forward a little as if he was attempting to read her.

"Then?" asked Alex, his brow furrowed.

"I can't remember much now," said Elsa, unwilling to enclose every detail to her friend. She paused for a moment and quietly searched his mind. It was a simple technique she had picked up from Charles and not one he was completely fond of, but it worked well for her.

He was worried, genuinely worried for her. Worried that she hadn't quite recovered, that she still did not trust him and that she still loved-

Elsa stopped there, unwilling to go any further.

Alex broke his gaze, staring down at the covers beneath him.

"In the dream, I was running. I don't-I don't know where, but there were a lot of trees," she said, "I kept on running and running because I knew there was something behind me. Something I couldn't see. Then I came to a fork in the road and that's...that's when I woke up,"

She stopped. She had only given a vague explanation of what she had seen, leaving out important details deliberately. Elsa felt guilty that she was not being completely honest with Alex, but she felt she had no other choice.

Not right now anyway.

"That's all I..."

She looked up and glanced at Alex. He was looking away, seeming a little irritated. Elsa did not need to enter his mind to figure his train of thought; he was clearly angered at her lack of openness.

Elsa felt horrid for it, knowing that dishonesty had no place in their friendship. But there was nothing she could do about it.

She watched his face tighten.

"Well, you seem fine now," he said rather stiffly, tugging at his shirt.

Elsa noted the immediate emptiness she felt as soon his skin left contact with hers and like most things these days, she had no answer for it.

He got up and leaned down, plastering a fake smile on his tired face.

"Good night Elsa,"

He slowly bent forward and pressed his lips against her cheek.

She couldn't tell if she was over-reacting or if she was simply imaging it, but she swore she could feel his lips lingering for longer than what was required.

He finally began to move away, with every second Elsa spent silent bringing him closer to her door.

Elsa could feel her heart quickening in beat, her head confused with the emotions she was feeling. She needed to do something, though she wasn't sure exactly what. She was still holding onto Warren, which was blatantly obvious. But what were also obvious were Alex's feelings for her.

She couldn't ignore that, even if she didn't know how she felt herself.

"Alex. Wait," she heard herself call out.

Alex stopped and spun around, his face lightening up a little.

Elsa stretched out her hand beckoned him, her own gesture seeming foreign and alien.

"Stay...stay with me," she said quietly.

Alex began to move slowly back towards her, edging closer and closer with slight caution. Finally, he took her hand into his.

He watched her for a moment, standing still with her hand in his.

He smiled.

"Alright,"

Elsa moved to the side in her bed, making up some space for Alex.

Alex climbed in, lying down beside her as he brought the covers over both of them.

She looked into Alex's eyes for a moment as he lay beside her, seeing the fine details of the windows to his soul. There was so much more to his physicality she had never noticed, so much that gone under the radar.

Looking at him like this, Elsa couldn't believe that even for a second, she had mistaken him for Warren.

They were nothing alike, in both physicality or morality. Alex was strong and courageous, quiet but loud. Warren was weak and subservient, meek and docile.

How could she have mixed up the two?

Elsa snuggled into her pillow as he smiled, pulling her closer until she was tucked beneath his chin.

She did not see it, but she could tell her had closed his eyes and surely, his quiet snores indicated that he had drifted off to sleep.

Elsa on the other hand, lay wide awake. She stared at nothing but the dark green of his thin shirt, her mind completely blank.

She realised, after all these months, this was the most peaceful she had felt.

Because for once in all this time and all that happened, she felt at one with herself. Because with the warmth from the sheets, the beat of Alex's heart against her ear and his arms wrapped around her, Elsa had never felt safer.

* * *

><p>He kicked his foot at the harsh, red dirt beneath him and cursed his actions immediately as a wave of fine copper dust settled on his shoe.<p>

The sun blazed down onto the back of his neck, making him regret wearing his current combination of clothes. His heavy winter coat, combined with the fine woollen waistcoat and cashmere scarf only made him feel like he was in an oven. Slowly being roasted alive by the blazing Virginia sun.

He placed his hand on his forehead and used it as a visor, surveying his surroundings with distaste. In all his life, he had never seen such a dry and ghostly place.

Lewis Worthington had never ventured outside of England and up until this point, he had never wanted to. The wet and freezing of his homeland had grown on him and he had come to the point where nothing else made him feel comfortable.

This was a complete push out of his comfort zone, and he secretly hoped that this had all been worth it.

He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out.

The address had been written in haste, for he had stumbled upon it by chance. He looked from the paper and then back again. This part of Virginia was relatively uninhabited, with perhaps fifteen houses all up.

It was a dry, sorry excuse for a place of dwelling but right now, analysing the lifestyles of the poor was not on Lewis' to do list.

He beckoned his Sail and Othello and started for the house.

It was Californian bungalow, the type Lewis had only ever seen in photographs.

It was a quaint dwelling, not something he would personally want. But to the occupants, it was their home.

He walked up the steps and with the back of his hand, knocked on the door three times.

A tall, wiry young man answered. He didn't look very old, perhaps still at school or at the very least a freshman at college. He had the look of someone decent and compliant, but from all that Lewis had learnt, looks could be very deceiving.

"Good afternoon," Lewis smiled, surveying the boy with slight disinterest. He was aware of Othello and Sail's menacing presence and so he subtle turned his head, indicating that the two might want to back off a little.

"Good afternoon. May I help you?" the boy replied, his hand lingering on the edge of the door.

"I was hoping you could." Lewis crooned. He pushed back his hair and ran his fingers over his golden beard, feeling the prickly hairs there. "I'm looking for a girl named Irene Adler. I believe she lives next door,"

"Lived," the boy corrected, his face suddenly relaxing.

"Lived? As if in, they moved?" Lewis asked, his brow furrowing.

_This better not have been a waste of time _

"Yes they did,"

"Where? When?" asked Lewis, feeling an immeasurable pressure forming at his temples. He understood his desperate appearance, but after all, he had worked so hard to get to this point alone.

The boy furrowed his brow and looked at Lewis curiously. "I'm sorry; who did you say you were again?"

Lewis tapped his foot once, his patience slowly leaving him. He did not have the capacity to exercise pleasantries or go through long explanations and he was sure the boy had better things to do. But despite that, he plastered the best smile he could and grinned like an old friend.

"You're right! Where are my manners?" Lewis struck out his hand and held it to the boy. "Lewis Worthington,"

"John Sangster," the boy replied, taking Lewis' gesture.

"Pleasure to meet you John," smiled Lewis.

He wouldn't usually have been so rude or so intrusive, but he did not have the time or the patience to practise any dawdling. He gently pushed past John and entered the house. And much to his satisfaction, his men did not follow.

John shook his head, a little baffled at his guest's audacity, but did not voice his concern. He closed the door and stood to Lewis, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lewis surveyed the home, his hands behind his back.

It was a quaint, typical family home. Portraits of summer vacations hung up on the wall, trophies and medals gleaming in a large ornate cabinet. There was nothing grand and extravagant about the place; clearly these people were middle-income workers.

"Nice home you have here," said Lewis, shrugging his shoulders, "I mean, very small but..."

John did not reply and rightly so. But feeling like he should keep up the pace, Lewis pressed on.

"So, the Adlers are gone are they?"

"Yes,"

"You, ah, you wouldn't have contact details?" asked Lewis, turning to face the boy.

"Of Irene?" asked John.

"Yes,"

"No, I'm sorry,"

Lewis squinted his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure,"

John seemed to think that that was the final word, that there was nothing left to discuss. But Lewis was not done. He was far from done.

John Sangster was harbouring information and whether he wanted to or not, he was going to disclose that information.

Lewis stepped toward John, facing him head on.

He grinned internally at his height, knowing that his towering would bring some intimidation.

"Did you know John, no matter how well one can hide the truth with their words...their face often betrays them?"

"What?" laughed John. He shook his head and turned on his heel. He opened the door and beckoned to the outside world. "Look mister, I think-"

"For instance," Lewis continued, closing the gap between himself and John, "When I first mentioned Irene, your brow flinched and the edge of your mouth twitched. Normally, this would come to the assumption that you simply know of Irene. But the twitch of your mouth was a subconscious move to smile, suggesting you have fond memories of the girl. Suggesting you know more of than the letters of her name,"

John seemed irritated now; clearly, Lewis had hit a nerve.

"Alright, I think you need to leave now,"

"Nonsense, I only just arrived," laughed Lewis, seating himself on an armchair.

John looked completely baffled, but did not close the door. He was determined to get Lewis out of his home, that much was clear.

He was about to say something, when the sound of footsteps interrupted him.

A tall, plump man appeared at the base of the stairwell and Lewis could only assume that this was John's father.

The man looked to John and then to Lewis and then back again.

"What on earth-?" he began. He looked to his son, "John, who is this?"

"My apologies," said Lewis, getting up onto his feet.

He held out his hand to John's father and extended the same courtesy he had given John not moments ago.

"My name is Lewis Worthington."

"Of Worthington Labs?" asked John's father, a small smile forming his lips.

"The very same,"

"Well while you're here," Mr. Sangster grinned, rubbing his wrists, "I must tell you that your anti-inflammatory tablets do wonders for my sore joints,"

"They were designed for that purpose," smirked Lewis.

"What business do you have with us?"

"I..." Lewis began. He stopped as he noticed a woman appearing out of the kitchen and being the gentleman that he was, nodded in her direction.

"Ma'am."

"I believe you know the whereabouts of a person of interest," Lewis continued to the Sangster males, "I'd rather hoped you'd disclose that information to me,"

"He thinks we know where the Adlers are," John informed his father, his tone slightly venomous.

"What? The Adlers?" asked Mr. Sangster, "I'm sorry sir, but you're asking the wrong people. They were our tenants yes, but I'm afraid they're gone,"

"Well tenants simply do not get up and leave!" exclaimed Lewis, cool exterior be damned.

"That's exactly what they did!" returned Mr. Sangster, "About three months ago I'd say, maybe a little bit more,"

"Well where are they?" pressed Lewis, his temper rising.

"We told you, we don't know," snapped John.

"Well surely..."

Suddenly, a light went up in Lewis' head. And it stunned him that he had taken this long to think of it.

"You wouldn't happen to know of an Elsa Muller, would you?"

John's face softened slightly, but he was quick to regain himself. "Yes, I know who she is,"

"Are you friends?"

"I don't-I don't think so," John threw his hands up into the air, "What's going on? Are they wanted by the government or something? On the run? What did she do wrong? What did either of them-?"

"Where is she now?" Lewis interrupted, "Still at school?"

"No, she's not at school anymore,"

"Then where?" Lewis could tell his questions were bothering the Sangsters, but quite frankly, that it didn't really bother_ him_.

The Sangsters remained quiet, the wife now clutching her husband's arm.

Lewis had never met such stubborn people and granted the mood he was in, he was willing to contribute it to a racial factor.

"Well this is just preposterous!" shrieked Lewis, throwing his hands into the air, "People simply do not_ disappear!_ And I refuse to believe that none of you know-"

"Well we don't! Alright?" interrupted John, "After Irene and her family left, Elsa left not long after. I don't know where she went; only that she's un-enrolled from school."

"_Ridiculous_," Lewis kicked over a stool, the cheap wooden thing splitting at the leg as it fell to the ground.

The Sangsters were alarmed. Not only had a foreign man barged into their home, question them as if it were the Spanish Inquisition but now he was breaking apart their furniture.

"Ok, sir, I think you need to leave," ordered Mr. Sangster, "_Now_,"

"No. No I don't think you understand Mr. Sangster," mumbled Lewis, throwing his head back in exhaustion, "I have travelled a great distance to achieve my ends and Irene has, although rather inadvertently, become a large part of my plans."

Lewis tucked his hand into his pocket. "You know where she is and I need you to tell me,"

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" asked John, crossing his arms over his chest.

He stared at the family, his rage rolling off him like waves. He was sure these people were harbouring information and he was sure that they were protecting Irene Adler and the Muller girl.

_How dare they! How bloody dare they lie to me through their teeth! _

Lewis rolled his head over his shoulders, allowing the tense muscles to stretch.

He took a step towards John, now within only a centimetre from the boy. Quick as a flash, Lewis pulled the gleaming grey revolver out of his pocket and pointed it straight at John's head.

"Perhaps this will change your mind?" he asked, steadying his hand as he allowed the gun to rest on the boy's forehead.

Lewis was quietly satisfied at the gasps of horror leaving Mr and Mrs. Sangster. He had them in a place that could either grant them life or death. He could feel the supremacy rising within him and sent electric shocks throughout his body.

Holding ransom like this gave him a sense of power and position that not promotion could ever give.

John on the other hand, was surprisingly stoic. He did not seem moved by the threat, nor did he seem frightened.

"Threaten me, all you want," replied John calmly, his eyes unblinking, "I don't have any answers for you,"

"Then I am afraid," tutted Lewis, as he cocked the gun, "You are of no use to me,"

It was spectacular; the sight of the bullet forcing its way through John's skull and out the other side. The blood splatter out in brilliant gallops, finding their mark on a nearby wall, the floor and though Lewis had not noticed it, his shirt.

John crumpled to the ground, a large gaping bullet hole in his forehead.

The blood oozed out from the exit and entry wounds, the substance dark and thick.

What followed was a mess of screaming, scratching and wailing.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Mr. Sangster went into an uproar, shrieking and sobbing as he hurled abuse at his son's murderer. Lewis did not feel anything towards his victim. There was no sympathy or remorse, only the sound of his gun firing against the old man's temple.

_And down he goes_

Mrs. Sangster was left, screaming and wailing at the bodies of her son and husband. She threw herself over their dead bodies, holding their faces in her hand.

Lewis almost felt sorry for her.

But considering he had just killed her family, it would only be far if he killed her too.

He held the gun up to her shrieking head, noting that he had only four more bullets left.

"NO!" she screamed, "PLEASE, DON'T-"

Lewis winced at her voice, shuddering at its tone and pitch.

He sent two shots through her, just in case she decided to live. He couldn't take any chances.

Now there was silence, the screams of the Sangster family gone. All that was left was the humming of the bees outside and the birds tweeting in the trees.

Lewis sniffed. In all honesty, he hadn't come here to kill. That was the last thing on his mind right now. But, quite frankly, the Sangsters had asked for it.

He beckoned Othello in.

The large, dark skinned boy entered the home cautiously, wincing at the sight of the dead family. Unlike Sail, Othello simply did not have the stomach for blood and gore.

"Clean this up will you?" Lewis asked him.

Othello did not speak, only nodding in submission. It took a moment's hesitation, but he soon got to work.

Lewis placed the gun back into his pocket and stepped outside, stretching his arms.

"Sail!" he called.

The thin boy came leaping out of their vehicle, his hair in a flying mess as he ran to his master.

"Get us to the nearest service station," Lewis told him, "I'm rather hungry."

"Yes sir,"

Lewis rubbed his stomach. He paused for a moment, as he felt something sticky on his shirt. He pulled away his hand and was startled to see that it was bloody.

"Oh, Jesus," groaned Lewis.

"Not a good look sir," snickered Sail.

"Looks like I'll have to get another shirt too," cursed Lewis, wiping his hand on Sail, "I kind of liked this one. Shame,"

Othello was now going about the house, dousing everything he could with gasoline.

They could not leave any evidence, anything that could lead back to them.

Othello reappeared at the door, holding a lit match in his hand.

Lewis gave him a single nod and with no hesitation, threw it behind him.

The three men proceeded to their car, the Sangster home slowly going up in flames.

Lewis reached his door, opening it with his non-bloody hand.

"Are you sure we'll be able to find her?" he heard Othello say.

Lewis turned round and faced his accomplice.

Othello looked wrought with confusion and worry and for once, Lewis was able to read him.

He was doubtful.

"Of that I am certain," Lewis said calmly, "I know Tobias lives in this country, but he never disclosed the address. It'll be hard to pin point a location, but it'll happen. Elsa isn't going to be moving countries anytime soon so I'll have time on my side."

"But..."

"You doubt me?" Lewis warned.

"No, I-"

"Don't worry Othello," reassured Lewis, seating himself in the passenger seat. The smell of burning flesh was starting to filter his nose; the faster they got away from here the better.

He turned to face Othello in his seat, who had now joined him, and offered him a peaceful smile.

"None of this will have been in vain; these people will not have died for nothing. I will find her if it is the last thing I do,"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you to BYEkim, CSIGetteBlue, PrettyLittleLiarsFan245, as always Lizzie-Pikie Aiko and S-Dawg 101! <strong>

**I was going to update yesterday, but i had problems with Microsoft Word so...**

**Anyway, another chapter done and dusted; what did you think? I'll clean this up later, for i feel it is a little rushed but...**

**Once again, apologies for the late update!**

**THANKS!**


	17. Fear of the Unknown: Part 1

Chapter 17

-Fear of the Unknown-

She lay on her back, with one arm tucked beneath her head and the other lying lifelessly at her side. The sweet breeze ran delicately over her skin, picking up the fine hairs on her arms and danced a quiet waltz.

Her eyes were closed, shielding her sensitive pupils from the strong bright sunlight. She shifted on the ground, the gravel shifting uncomfortably beneath her.

It was an uncommonly warm day today. Rare for this time of year. It was sunny, but not fiery. Warm, but not hot.

Elsa sighed heavily, allowing the pure air fill her nostrils and travel into her starving lungs. She had spent most the morning jogging around the Xavier Mansion, a pathetic attempt to match her comrades in their physical prowess.

She had been jubilant however, when she managed to run four consecutive laps around the large estate. Previously, she could have managed only a few metres. Her slender frame was certainly not an indicator of the overall fitness of her body.

But she had been so proud, so overcome with the joy of completing a previously impossible task, that Elsa had celebrating by dropping flat onto the ground and falling asleep for what has now been three hours.

Why no one had come to check on her, she had no idea. But she expected that they had other things to do, and certainly had other things on their minds.

Charles was one such individual. Her sessions with him had been cut back a little, the news of Shaw's advancement throwing Charles off.

Sebastian Shaw was moving at a remarkably fast pace, what with the news that Russia was now moving to place intermediate-range nuclear missiles in Cuba. It was quite frightening to Elsa, to realise that she and her fellow mutants had a purpose. Of course, she knew why she had been involved in the first place, but the months had slipped so quietly and without hitch, she often forgot that the possibility of nuclear war was hanging ominously in the air.

Erik had retreated into himself these past few days, his normally monotonous demeanour now practically robotic. Elsa scarcely spoke to him, and perhaps, it was a good thing. Tensions were coming to a climax and it would only be a matter of time before either of the powerful nations would surmise their hide and seek game. And when that time comes, Erik would be faced with his tormentor once again. And Elsa was fearful of the path he would take.

Would he kill Shaw? Like he had said so many times? Would he forgive him? What if, what if he joined him?

And it was not just Erik's path Elsa was thinking about; she was wondering about her own. At the beginning, the path had been clear. Her duty was to fight alongside her friends, protecting the humans from any danger they could stand against.

But things were changing. Erik was filling her head with dangerous thoughts and tempting ideas.

'They're going to turn on us,' Erik would often say, 'They fear us. They need us now, but the first chance they get…they'll kill us,'

Elsa certainly did not like to think so. The humans were not all bad. People like Moira, and Levene and...and…

Well, who else was there?

Oh, but there was always John Sangster. Lovely bloke.

Elsa often wondered what happened to him, where he was, what he was doing. John was a shining example of his kind.

Though Elsa wasn't sure why, she liked to imagine John going on fishing trips. He seemed the type of guy. She could imagine him, sitting on the edge of the bank and waiting for a fish to bite his bait. The wind would ruffle through his hair as he would turn his smile to the sun.

Yes, Elsa quite liked that. Perhaps he was doing that right now…

Elsa's thoughts of John began to turn into thoughts of Irene. Immediately, she felt an immense sadness. Irene had told her that it wasn't her fault, but it never negated the guilt Elsa felt. If she had been with her that night, if she had been by the girl's side, perhaps those boys wouldn't have…

Her eyes were still closed, but beneath, her eyes were glowing with rage. Those boys, those humans, had taken away everything from Irene. They-

"Hello beautiful,"

Elsa froze and instantly, her eyes fluttered open. There was no need to ask who it was; she'd know that voice anywhere.

It took her eyes a while to adjust to the sudden influx of sunlight, but when they were ready, she sat up.

She winced a little, peeling the indented gravel stones off her skin. She rubbed her elbows, bewildered by the fact that she had managed the thin skin there and yet, had not known until this point.

She slowly looked up, plastering a big fake smile onto her face as she looked up into Alex's eyes.

He flashed her a smile, though his face was a little flustered and red. He was clad in his grey training suit, with dark patches of sweat showing beneath his arms and around his neck. A thin film of sweat, had formed a layer over his skin, making it glisten in the afternoon sunlight.

Even in such a state, he still looked handsome.

But Elsa could have smacked Alex's ability to expose her, to make her feel awkward and uncomfortable.

Her thoughts were a little scattered, her brain unable to communicate to her mouth.

Beautiful? How on earth was she meant to respond to that?

"Hey..." she began, her voice trailing off.

She did not know what to say to him, how to finish her sentence. To return something similar to his words would imply something she was not ready to imply.

Damn him!

"... you," she finished finally, trying to make the word sound as pretty as possible.

Alex sighed and chuckled bitterly. He placed a hand on his hip.

"We're still not there are we?" he asked quietly.

"Where's there?" asked Elsa slowly, dreading where he was going with this. She pulled her leg underneath the other and placed her hands neatly in her lap. The stinging sensation on her joints had receded, only to be replaced with something far more irritable; anticipation.

"The part where we call each other pet names," said Alex simply, seating himself across from her.

"Part?"

"Yes,"

"Part," claimed Elsa, narrowing her eyes at him, "gives the assumption that we're in the middle of something,"

"Yeah?" shrugged Alex.

"So what are we in the middle of?"

Alex's face turned ashen, his jaw tightening and his eyes turning stone cold. Elsa swallowed and despised the dry feeling that was accumulating in her throat; although she had the feeling it had nothing to do with her exercise or lack of hydration.

"I don't know Elsa, what are we in the middle of?" asked Alex, his face softening. He ran his hand through his golden hair, looking to Elsa with a rather smug look. And for what he was smug about, she had no idea. To revel in one's knowledge and another's complete absence of it, was not something to be proud of.

Huffing a little, Elsa crossed her arms over her chest and eyed her friend with distaste.

"You're going to have to be a little less equivocal if you wish to get your point across Alexander," she hissed, a little too hag-like for her own liking.

Alex raised his brow in a quick motion. "I think you know what I'm talking about,"

Elsa had some idea as to what he was talking about; in fact, she knew exactly what it was. What she didn't want was to be wrong, and to blurt out something that Alex might not even be implying.

"Well if I did, I wouldn't be asking you now would I?" said Elsa, defensively.

Alex's face fell a little, his blue eyes losing their spark. He shook his head at Elsa before looking down to his feet.

He got up and stretched, looking back towards the mansion.

"Don't worry about it," he muttered.

Elsa could feel her veins pulsing in her neck, the blood pumping a little faster.

Alex was being childish now and it was only a solid reminder of how much she hated children and their obnoxious ways.

Waving his hand dismissively, Alex began to walk away. But Elsa, feeling like the fool, trailed the boy before slapping him hard against his muscular arm.

She could not expect that her weak hands could ever hurt Alex, but she was surprised when he flinched in pain. He whipped himself back around and faced her, his countenance flashing with anger.

"What?" he asked coldly, rubbing his bare arm.

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to read your mind?" warned Elsa.

Alex stood tall in his spot, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocked his head formidably down at Elsa. Though Elsa would never tell him, he looked quite intimidating.

"Is that a threat?" he asked, his voice deadly.

"It should be considered as such," returned Elsa with rapid speed.

Despite his best efforts to seem domineering, Alex let show a frown. His lips were trembling slightly, as if they were itching to let the words out of his mouth. He squinted his eyes, his mind clearly in mental turmoil.

Elsa tapped her foot. In all honesty, she did not want an answer. She simply did not want to know.

But he had started it and quite frankly, she would not be able to sleep soundly if she did not get an answer out of him.

Whilst Alex stuttered, Elsa considering beating him into a head-lock and forcing it out of him. She was only just stopped from doing so when finally he blurted:

"There are times when you and I get along really well, times when I feel as if you're my-my girlfriend or something."

Alex looked petrified, as if he had uttered a dark incantation or words of taboo. Elsa too, was a little taken aback. She had never felt this way and was surprised that Alex did. Of course, she felt something towards him but she had never felt like his girlfriend.

Though thoroughly frightened, being the brave man he was Alex soldiered.

"And then, sometimes, you ignore me or you seem as if you don't care and then I don't know what to think,"

Alex's eyes flashed with something Elsa could not quite comprehend. It was a mix of embarrassment, relief and disappointment, and she hated to think which one it really was.

Elsa stood impassively, regretting that she had asked Alex in the first place. She swayed on her feet, twisting the hem of her sweat shirt and intertwining the material between her long fingers. She averted eye contact.

"I mean, come on Elsa," laughed Alex bitterly, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to look at him. "Don't tell me you're not confused either?"

Elsa could feel a weight drop in her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going.

"Confused?" she asked, shaking in his hands, "About-about what?"

"Us!" Alex exclaimed. He let go of her shoulders and frantically waved his hand back and fro between them. "This! This thing we've got going on,"

"What thing?" Elsa felt terrible for it, but she had to try everything to stall time.

"We just...we click you and I," said Alex quietly, looking to his feet. "I mean, you flirt with me...I flirt with you."

"Oh come on Alex!" scoffed Elsa, throwing her hands out to her sides, "Flirting doesn't mean-"

"No, you're right it doesn't," interrupted Alex coldly, "But allowing me to enter your room in the middle of the night and sleeping in my arms must mean something right?"

Elsa inhaled sharply, scowling and feeling more than a little sour. She had known that moment of weakness would come back to bite her. She could kick herself, for giving in that night. For simply not allowing Alex to leave, instead of beckoning him to stay.

"Can't we discuss this some other time?" Elsa muttered to her hands.

She realised the hypocrisy of her words, considering that just moments ago she had demanded that Alex explain himself. But she had gone too far and too deep for her liking. She wanted to run from the situation, she needed to get away.

"No, Elsa, we can't!" exclaimed Alex, kicking over a stone loveseat. The small seat toppled over, cleanly breaking two of its legs.

Elsa took a few steps back.

She had never seen Alex in such a rage, if this could even be considered as one. It was alien, and strange, and it made Elsa wonder just how much she liked this boy. If something as small as this could set him off...

Noticing Elsa's stance, Alex's expression softened. He unclenched his jaw and allowed the tense muscles beneath his skin to loosen. He de-balled his fists and advanced slowly towards her.

He took hold of an arm and looked right into her eyes.

"Elsa, you're driving me crazy," he said softly, "I need to know."

It broke Elsa's heart, to see Alex so hopeful. She had never expected any of this when she had agreed to Charles and Erik's proposition. She had never expected to leave her old life so quickly, to find her place again, to rekindle that part of her soul that the Worthington's had so wretchedly taken from her.

How had she let it come to this?

Elsa did not know what to make of Alex's words, how she was supposed to respond. She did not need this, at least not now.

Feeling a little light headed, an idea popped into Elsa's head.

"You interrupted my jog," she said, turning away from him.

"W-what?" asked Alex, sounding a little bemused. Clearly, it was not the answer he had been looking for.

"So, to compensate we'll have a race," continued Elsa, ignoring Alex's query, "If you beat me, I'll give you an answer. If I beat you, I get to take a shower. Yeah?"

"Elsa, don't-" began Alex, resting his hands on his hips.

"Alright? Cool," once again, Elsa ignored the boy. She got down on her hunches and positioned herself in the pose that the athletes did in the Olympic Games.

"Elsa..."

"On the count of ten,"

"Elsa, don't you test me,"

Elsa had no intention of testing Alex, but she did have the attention of running away and never looking back.

Alex was still standing in his place, quite unable to believe she was doing this.

Elsa began her countdown.

"Ten, nine, eight...threetwoone, go!"

Elsa practically shot out of the ground, swinging her arms wildly at her sides as she sprinted at full pace. Her feet slapped the ground hard, the gravel beneath her feet flying in all sorts of different directions.

"Elsa!" she heard Alex cry, "God-damn!"

Elsa shook her head as she ran, laughing while she did. She could hear a second set of feet running after hers, the crunching of gravel doubling. Soon, Alex was beginning to catch up with her.

They were now neck in neck, his face levelling with hers.

Within a second, she released her wings and up into the air she went.

"HEY! HEY, THAT'S CHEATING!" she heard Alex shriek.

She could hear fragments of his voice, but soon his irritated tones had drifted further from her ears as she soared higher into the sky.

Her majestic wings flapped several times, the wind catching beneath them. She glided for a bit, enjoying the cool sensation she felt as the breeze weaved in and out of her feathers.

She soared higher, flipping and gliding as she went. Elsa closed her eyes momentarily, allowing the fresh air to fill her lungs.

There was nothing to be heard up here, absolutely nothing. All she could hear was the flap of her wings and the gush of air past her ears.

Elsa couldn't remember the last time she flown like this, the last time that she had felt this alive.

It was sensational.

The sun was much closer from here, its rays of light far more potent at this distance. Elsa wondered how close she could fly to it, what would happen if she did. She was reminded of Icarus and his unfortunate demise.

He had flown far too close to the sun and was rewarded with death.

She certainly was not Icarus; she did not feel arrogance. But like Icarus, she knew the potency of power. Even the promise of it. She knew its ability to cloud the sense and possess the mind.

She knew.

Elsa shook her head, throwing those dark thoughts out of her mind.

She hovered for a moment, the Xavier Mansion now completely invisible underneath the immense pearly clouds.

Elsa was aware that she could simply fly off, away from Xavier Mansion and back into the real world. It was so easy to do so, so tangible. But what use would that bring, what purpose? Her place was here, with her friends. Even if some were making it rather difficult for her.

Elsa sighed nosily and looked down, figuring it was about time she descended.

Elsa arched her back and dipped in and out of the clouds, slowly but surely coming back to ground level.

Alex was, not surprisingly, waiting for her. He was standing tall in his spot, his eyes flashing with irritancy and his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Elsa remained hovering above him, watching him with a playful twinkle in her eye.

Suddenly, and with no indication otherwise, Alex grabbed Elsa by the foot and yanked her down. Elsa let a pitiful yell, her wings sheathing themselves as both she and Alex went tumbling down the front hill.

Their gasps and cries were muffled as their chests buckled beneath them as they began spiralling down.

For what seemed like eons, they tumbled together down the front of the Xavier Mansion, their limbs flying all over the place as they descended further and further.

They finally reached the bottom, Alex landing first and flat on his back. He groaned as his head snapped back, his arms hanging pathetically at his sides. Elsa came next, sprawling onto his chest.

They were both incredibly out of breath, both wondering what had just happened.

Elsa slowly propped herself up a bit, looking right into Alex's eyes.

For Alex, it seemed as if time had stopped. The wind had stopped blowing, the leaves stopped rustling. His breath was caught in his throat and his lips were slightly parted.

She looked beautiful like this, out of breath and mused. Her dark eyes were wide and full, her coal like hair falling over her face in crazy tendrils. The tight layer of skin across her cheeks flexed and stretched, the muscles beneath tightening and loosening.

It seemed to be the perfect moment, the perfect image of the girl he had come to grow so fond of.

He wanted to kiss her, to feel her lips against his.

And he would, the moment would have been perfect, if she had not begun to laugh.

It was slow at first, but soon it began to spread.

Her giggles once quiet and contained, now had formed into roaring laughter. She threw back her head, her musical chortle filling the air.

Alex scowled.

"Stop giggling, this isn't funny," hissed Alex, gently flipping Elsa off him and to his side. She landed at his right arm, still giggling hysterically.

She didn't know what was funny exactly, only that the laughter would not stop.

"Eugh, I think my nose broke again," groaned Alex, feeling the line of his perfectly straight nose.

Elsa snorted, attempting to stifle another giggle as she rested her head against the newly mowed grass, curling herself into a ball.

Alex suddenly flared, sitting upright in his position.

"This is all just some big joke to you, huh?" growled Alex, "Give me an answer,"

"You didn't win," she informed him breathlessly, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"You cheated. Therefore I automatically win,"

Elsa stopped laughing, her expression now serious. She slowly sat upright, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Listen, Alex. I adore you. I really do," she offered him a genuine smile, carefully placing her hand over his. "Alright? You're strong and brave and you make me feel like I'm worth something,"

Alex smiled, but it was more acrimonious than anything.

"But I don't know how I feel about you," Elsa continued, "I don't know how I feel about anything anymore,"

Alex softened, leaning back onto his elbows. "I thought you were feeling good about things?"

"I did. I do," she admitted, "But the more I think about everything, the more I've come to realise...I don't know how I feel. I mean, Charles and Erik...they're making me so confused,"

"What have Charles and Erik got to do with anything?" asked Alex, furrowing his brow.

"Nothing," said Elsa immediately.

An awkward silence passed between them, both the adolescents acutely aware of the agony it brought them.

Elsa was terrified that she had said the wrong thing. She could not conclude that she wanted to be with Alex, but she could not bear the thought of losing him.

"Well I know how I feel about you," Alex said finally.

Elsa sniffed but did not offer any words of confirmation.

"So you just don't know?"

Elsa shook her head. "I'm sorry,"

And for once, she was being genuine.

Elsa snuck at glance at her blonde friend, noting the clouded expression on his face. She felt so bad for it, for being an ambiguous cow to such a decent young man.

Elsa looked back to the Mansion, wondering how she'd be able to face Alex in the weeks to come.

Surely, he felt nothing but disappointment towards her?

Then, as if a light had gone off in his head, Alex lit up.

"I suggest something then," he said. He paused for a moment, as if to build tension. "Go out with me,"

"What?" Elsa spluttered.

She certainly had not been expecting that.

"Well you said you don't know, so why don't you try me out?" Alex closed his eyes immediately, letting an embarrassed smile form on his lips. "That...came out wrong. But you know what I mean,"

"Alex," said Elsa softly.

Alex shifted from his position and moved closer to her, resting his chest against her shoulder.

"Elsa," he mimicked.

Elsa scoffed as she pushed him gently against his chest.

"Come on," smiled Alex, "Go out with me. And see if you can develop...something. Something other than adoration."

"I don't know Alex..."

Still smiling, Alex placed a light kiss on her cheek causing her to flush a bright pink.

"What have you got to lose?" he asked.

Elsa looked to Alex and entered his mind. Her telepathic fingers danced elegantly on his mind, touching on his hopes and dreams, his hate and his love. He harboured angry thoughts and dark memoires, memories even Elsa could not open. But, dominating all of this, was his love and his loyalty. His love and loyalty for the people that meant the most to him.

Elsa did not know what she had to lose, considering that she had already lost so much. What did she have in this world, to hold her back from these risks? These dangers?

But what if, like Warren, Alex would break her heart? What if she was left a shambling mess by the end of it all? What if she was never meant to be mated, and any potential suitors were never meant to be?

What if, what if, what if?

But then, Elsa felt something click within her, something she had not felt before; resolve.

From what she had seen, life simply hung on by a thread. There was no insurance for it, nothing to protect it from the storms humanity. It was merely a flickering candle flame and any moment, the light could be extinguished.

What is it, the thing that held her back? Was it ignorance? Or was it her fear of the unknown?

Elsa did not want to live with regrets, to be given a choice and then make the wrong one. To forever ask herself what would have been. To forever dwell on the past.

For so long, she had relied on others to get her by. For too long, she had waited patiently for others to make their choice.

No longer.

* * *

><p>The cast iron radiator hummed quietly in the corner of the room, slowing dispersing its heat to every corner it could find. It was old and despite its numerous paint jobs, it was clear that the machine was coming to the pointy end of its usable life.<p>

The fire in the hearth blazed brightly not far from it, also providing warmth even though the radiator alone would have sufficed.

It was a chilly autumn day, with the sun making no effort to peep out from within the heavy grey clouds. The wind blew relentlessly through anything it could get its hands on, singing a quiet hymn as it did.

Elsa seldom visited Raven in her room, but when she did she always marvelled at the magnificent view it held. It looked over Xavier Mansion's vast and expansive garden, showcasing every last detail with exquisite accuracy; from the perfectly trimmed hedges, the perfectly mowed lawn and all the way to the perfectly keep beds of country cottage-esque flower beds.

Apparently, Charles' mother had had quite the eye for flora and fauna, the gardens solely of her design. Elsa could see that Mrs. Xavier had held similar tastes to her own mother; traditional and elegant, holding no place for the esteemed foreign and exotic plants that were currently in vogue.

Elsa was quietly glad for it. It reminded her of home. At least, the nicer memories of it anyway.

She was sitting upon Raven's queen sized bed, marvelling at the softness of its silk covers. It could only be the finest Chinese silk, probably hand spun by the fingers of little old ladies.

Its imperial quality was nothing less than what the Mansion demanded, but Elsa still couldn't help but feel resentful towards the Xavier's lavish taste.

Sighing, she lay down and stared up at the ceiling.

Raven had a much larger room than her, naturally considering Raven had grown up here. The ceiling was very high which made it a perfect sanctuary in summer, but an absolute igloo in the winter if it weren't for the open fire and old radiator.

At the moment, Raven was rifling through her plethora of clothes in her tiny-nation sized wardrobe. Though she had been reluctant to say so in the first place, Elsa had told Raven about her little date with Alex and ever since then, Raven had gone into frenzy. Over the course of a day, Elsa had ceased to be Elsa and was now simply Raven's 'project'.

Elsa supposed it was the lack of sisterly and female contact that Raven had experienced growing up and it was this factor alone that enabled Elsa to excuse Raven's behaviour. But it didn't negate the fact that it was all completely unnecessary.

"I don't see the point to all of this," sighed Elsa, propping herself onto her elbows.

"The point?" scoffed Raven's voice, the girl still deep inside her walk-in wardrobe, "You're going out on a date. It's an absolute requirement that you look your best,"

"It's not a date; you'll all be there," pouted Elsa, feeling very uncomfortable with the word 'date'.

"No we're not," said Raven, re-emerging with a pile of various clothes in her arms, "We're going to the carnival together, yes, but what you two end up doing has nothing to do with us,"

Raven smirked suggestively.

"Shut up Raven, it's not like that," snapped Elsa, launching a stray sock at the blonde girl's head, "He just wants me to test him out,"

Elsa immediately closed her eyes, regretting her words as Raven began to giggle hysterically. She realised that she had made the same mistake Alex had when he asked her out in the first place.

"No…I….You know what I mean," muttered Elsa, cursing her lack of finesse.

"Do I?" laughed Raven, placing the pile on a nearby chair.

Elsa shook her head, lacking a suitable comeback rather than the energy to voice one. She got up from the bed and examined the clothes Raven had selected.

Needless to say, she felt a little overwhelmed. Her clothes at home looked like a nun's aesthetic heaven in comparison to this.

This was an array of bright colours, obscene patterns, very short hems and tight bodices, making Elsa's eyes very confused as to where to look.

Her fingers flitted lightly over the items, appreciating their rakish beauty but conceding that she could never pull off such garments. She didn't have the physique to flaunt such clothes like Raven nor could she ever feel comfortable parading around like that.

"I don't understand why I can't just wear my normal gown?" frowned Elsa, crossing her arms as she placed a pretty silk scarf back into the pile.

Elsa looked to Raven, only just catching the other girl's irritated expression.

Elsa was referring to her tried and tested floral gown, a modest piece that bore no shoulders and a decent hem. She wore it everywhere, except during training, and never felt comfortable in anything else.

"That daggy thing?" scoffed Raven, shaking her head, "Elsa, have you ever _been _on a date?"

"Of course I have!" barked Elsa indignantly, "I went on plenty with Warren!"

"And did you wear the same thing every time?" asked Raven, raising her brow, her voice heavy with scorn.

"No," sneered Elsa, "Because it didn't matter what I wore. Warren lov-"

"Loved you for who you were?" interrupted Raven, her tone stone cold, "Oh yes. Maybe that's why he left you for dead, or slaughtered your family. That was all_ love_, wasn't …"

Raven began to trail off, her voice quietening as she realised Elsa's hurtful expression. Her blue-green eyes softened and it was evident that she was immediately regretting her damaging words.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, very much resembling a mindless goldfish.

Elsa blinked several times, consciously ridding herself of her wounded countenance and replacing it with one of indifference. Though she could not help it, she could feel her lips pursing tightly.

Raven appeared devastated, clutching a frilly skirt in her hands with an iron grip. She tried to recompose herself, to think of something to say.

Elsa turned her head, walked over to the window and stared absently at nothing in particular.

That was off hand of Raven to do that, to bring up something so raw and upsetting in such a brazen manner.

Elsa had no idea Raven felt so strongly about the topic, nor that she could possess such anger. But that was no excuse.

Raven wasn't there that night; she didn't know the finer details.

Who was she to judge Warren when she hadn't even met him, let alone know him entirely?

"I'm sorry," Raven finally said, her words as soft as a mouse's scuttle, "I shouldn't have said that,"

"You possess quite a rage Miss Raven," returned Elsa, still looking out the window. She heard Raven chuckle quietly to herself.

Elsa finally turned back around and seated herself onto the edge of Raven's bed. She crossed her legs and looked directly at the other girl.

"What made you say it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I don' know," shrugged Raven, "I guess…maybe I was tired of it,"

"Tired of what?"

"Of you!" said Raven, suddenly flustered, "Of you still clinging onto him!"

Elsa shifted in her seat. "I'm not clinging,"

Raven plopped herself beside her friend and grabbed her arm.

She looked right into Elsa's eyes as if she was searching for her answer there, when she knew it would come to no avail.

"I don't get it," said Raven, "He hurt you, in a manner that is _unforgiveable_. He ruined you. And if that wasn't incentive enough, it's clear that Alex really likes you; you have someone else to move onto to. So why won't you?"

Elsa sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the stray knots hanging there.

"It's not that simple Raven, it never is," said Elsa quietly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. It just isn't."

Raven frowned. "I thought the British were meant to be intelligent and yet, you can never give me a straight answer."

Elsa chuckled bitterly, silently agreeing with her friend. It was true. Ever since her arrival she had had never provided a straight answer for anyone, let alone Raven. Her responses always ended in 'I don't know' or 'let's discuss it later'.

Hell, that was exactly what she had done to exactly to Alex not a few days ago.

Elsa bit her lip, mulling over her thoughts.

Perhaps that would change today.

"I'm not clinging onto him, Raven," said Elsa, her tone grave, "I'm clinging onto to what he was. And it means for me,"

Raven got to her feet, placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head slightly.

"Now you're just being cryptic,"

Elsa looked down at her hands, smiling a small smile as she did.

"He was mine, Raven. He was my first friend and my first love and what I saw that night, it wasn't who he was. He was all I had ever known. And if I...if I move on, if I allow Alex into my life it means that I should be forgetting Warren. And if I forget Warren, then I'm forgetting what my life used to be."

"But that's-" Raven interrupted. Elsa raised her hand to silence the girl and continued. Her breaking voice was betraying her stoic expression and she was hoping that her tear-free months would not go to waste.

"There is not a single memory in my mind that Warren is not in. Like it or not, but he was a huge part of my life and I his. And yes, I know what he did was wrong but I...I..."

Elsa could no longer find the words to justify herself. Her explanation sounded pathetic even to her.

Raven seemed mollified, nodding her head as if to say she understood. She grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair into a low ponytail.

"I get it Elsa. I really do," she said, "But, I-I care about you. And I know it hasn't been long since I first met you but I do. You're like a sister to me now and I don't want to see you unhappy. Let Alex make you happy."

Elsa smiled, finally experiencing what her mother had constantly spoken about. That connection, that familial connection, with someone that wasn't your own. The blood tie needn't be there, for the bond they shared was enough.

Happiness. Wasn't what they were all chasing, what they all desperately wanted?

So why, why oh why, was she denying herself? Why was she waiting on something that was never to become a reality? Why ignore the words of her new friends, her new family when she had no one else to say otherwise?

She had agreed to Alex's proposition, why wasn't she feeling more enthusiastic about it? There was something between them so why deny it any further?

Thought it may have seemed rushed, Elsa decided then and there that she was moving on. She had spent far too long lamenting on a lost cause and she did not have the time for it.

She was making a new life for herself and though it should have begun months ago, she was truly starting it today.

"Ah, maybe you're right," smiled Elsa, getting to her feet, "Maybe some change will do me some good."

Raven instantly lit up, a broad smile spreading over her jovial face.

"That's the spirit!" she cried, jumping on the balls of her feet.

Elsa giggled, glad to have made her friend happy.

She waltzed back over to the pile of garments and re-examined them.

"How about this?" asked Elsa, picking long sleeved, green turtle neck and checked brown skirt. It looked quite nice and Elsa was proud of the combination.

Raven on the other hand, simply took the garments out of Elsa's hands and threw them into a corner.

"No," she said.

"Alright, this?" asked Elsa, holding up a grey, knee length gown.

"Good God no," scoffed Raven, eyeing the dress as if it were something poisonous.

"This?" Elsa was hesitant this time, picking up a pair of capri trousers and an embroidered cardigan.

"Elsa, what century are you from?" exclaimed Raven, throwing those items into the 'no' pile as well, "You'll drive him away if you dress up like his mother,"

Elsa shrugged. She had grown up in a house full of men and her mother had hardly bothered with the coming and goings of the fashion world. Her mother had only dressed for the occasion and when she did, she looked spectacular. Elsa liked to think that she modelled herself after her, but according to Raven, that was no longer suitable.

Raven shuffled around a bit more, throwing various items into the air as she searched for the perfect outfit.

Finally, she remerged with the right items in hand.

Elsa was horrified.

Raven was clutching an extremely short dress that left nothing to the imagination. Should she put it on, it would only just cover her bottom and even that was not a guarantee. If that wasn't off putting enough, it adorned a striking pattern of bright red polka dots against a black background.

It suited Raven perhaps, but Elsa could not imagine herself in it.

Raven smiled expectantly.

"I…w-what is that?" stuttered Elsa, recoiling from Raven's choice.

"An outfit," returned Raven simply.

"Raven…" began Elsa slowly.

Ignoring Elsa's hesitance, Raven placed the dress on a chair nearby and scuttled back into her closet. She remerged again, this time with another outfit in hand. She looked between the two choices, her face wrought with confusion.

"Oh, but this one looks good too," whined Raven.

In all honesty, Elsa hated both choices and at that present moment, she half-hoped Sebastian Shaw would drop a bomb on the Mansion right at this moment, sparing her the humiliation of wearing such outrageous garments.

Suddenly, Raven's face lit up. It was as if a light had gone off in her head and was now burning like a fire.

"I know! We'll hold a fashion show!" giggled Raven.

"No," said Elsa flatly.

"Yes," returned Raven, narrowing her eyes.

"_No. _Are you out of your mind?"

Raven certainly looked like she was, a new sort of lust manifesting in her eyes.

"We are holding a fashion show Elsa and you are not going to stop me,"

Raven suddenly threw the clothes in a 'yes' pile and with lightning fast reflexes, tackled Elsa to the ground.

"No-," cried Elsa, appalled by Raven's impressive strength, "Raven!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hate ending on a piece of dialogue but…AH DO WHA AH WANT!<strong>

**Once again, many thanks to: xmen4life, the lovely LizziePixie-Aiko and S-Dawg 101. Also, a shout out to Lilibella who had me squealing for joy with their review! And also, FragileToughGirl-thank you for understanding!**

**I hope this chapter has lived up to your expectations! **


	18. Fear of the Unknown: Part 2

Chapter 18

-Fear of the Unknown: Part 2-

When Elsa had reached the most important age of five, her family had taken a celebratory trip to London. It was a fair distance from her home and at first, she did not want to go. Up until that point she had never ventured outside the borders of Banbury and the prospect of going to London, the country's _capital_, had made her feel a little anxious.

She had even thrown up in the car halfway there.

Klaus had not come all the way to London, instead self-opting to stay with their Aunt Alissa in Slough.

Elsa had been rather upset about that; she had really wanted Klaus to be there. How would it have been a family trip, if the entire family was not present? In fact, Elsa had spent most of the trip with her arms crossed and her lip pouted, demanding that Klaus come and she simply shan't comply with the wishes of her family.

All that had melted away, all of that ill will and frustration evaporated when they had arrived in London.

It was as if it were a whole new world. The hustle and the bustle, the noise and the bright lights and most especially, the people. London had recovered, although still very much on the mend, from the atrocities of World War and it was as if the city had come alive again. People stopped to say hello, offering a 'happy birthday' when Elsa informed them it was her special day. Pretty girls had tottered past in the latest Post-War fashions, gaggles of young men sauntering in the back alleys, mothers and fathers clutching the hands of their children as they too traversed the great city.

But what struck Elsa the most, though it was rather peculiar, was the smell. The smell of London and all its bountiful fruits.

Though she could not literally do so, she had bottled it up. She had pressed into her memory the alluring stink of petroleum and the salty tang of the fish markets, the musky scent of new books and the sweet smell of rain.

And that is what Elsa did with every place or person of significance; she permitted the smell of it to memory. It was a rather strange habit and to most rather absurd, but to Elsa, it made perfect sense. When she was old and blind, crippled by age and ill health, what then did she have left? Her memories of course, but what use are they when they are merely pictures? To remember the sights and the smells would keep her memories alive and most especially, herself.

And so when she, Alex, Raven, Hank and Sean entered the Sinstra Brother's World Renown (or rather, self proclaimed) Carnival that was exactly what she did.

Fairy Floss, green grass and the rather putrid smell of zoo animals filtered her nose and imbedded themselves within Elsa.

But, but there was something else, something else forcing its way into her.

Something musky, and heavy, but surprisingly sweet and pleasurable.

Elsa blushed a deep crimson.

That was Alex she could smell.

He looked to her, his brow furrowed in amusement.

"What is it?" he asked, "You've gone all red,"

"Trying to match her dress I think," giggled Sean, nudging Elsa in the ribs.

Elsa, in the hand, had borrowed a few of Raven's clothes but the combination of them was all her doing. Raven's pale pink gown reached Elsa's knees, the hem bordered with a black ribbon. The black cotton cardigan hung gracefully off her shoulders, matching the pair of school girl shoes she adorned on her feet.

Even Raven had approved.

"I am _not_," scowled Elsa, shaking her head, "And besides, my gown is pink; not red. If anything is red, it's your hair."

"Or your cheeks," laughed Sean.

"Leave her alone Sean," smirked Alex, gently pushing the other boy.

"You started it!"

"Alright, alright, alright," interjected Hank, raising his hands into the air, "Let's not start a fist fight here shall we?"

Elsa smiled; even on a recreational trip such as this, Hank couldn't ditch his tartan bow tie and sky blue cardigan.

Elsa quite liked the atmosphere. It was late in the afternoon and so, it was not entirely dark yet. But the horizon had painted itself an array of deep fuchsia and orange, gold and indigo providing a spectacular back drop for such a mystical and extravagant place.

The flashing signs and lights only added to the sparkly environment, with the sounds of electronic machines buzzing in their ears.

"I love carnivals," remarked Raven, marvelling at the many sights and sounds of the showground.

"Just about the only place we can blend in," commented Elsa, rocking on her feet. The rest of the gang all turned to her simultaneously, their once jubilant faces now sour.

"That was a _joke_," laughed Elsa, "You're meant to laugh,"

Alex and Sean smiled and shook their heads, however, Raven and Hank looked quite down trodden. Elsa immediately released the weight of her careless words and moved to apologize profusely, only to be cut off by Sean's shrilly cry of joy.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the red-headed boy, pointing his hand and jumping on his heels like a child. "I _love c_arousels!"

Leaving the group rather dazzled, Sean sped off into the direction of the said carousel. Elsa realised that she had never seen Sean run so fast and was rather amused when he pushed a young boy out of the way.

The two couples remained where they were, wondering where to head to now.

"I'm hungry," mumbled Raven, her stomach growling in agreement. She passed a sly wink at Elsa and looked to Hank.

"How about we get something to eat?"

"Uh yeah. Sure," replied Hank, looking a little flushed.

Elsa subtly shook her head at Raven, watching as she clutched Hank's hand and disappeared into the crowd.

Now, she was left alone with Alex.

Neither spoke a word, both consumed with anxiety.

"Did you mean what you said?" asked Alex finally, his tone a little stern.

"About what?"

"About this being the only place we could blend in?"

"It was a joke Alex. I didn't mean it," chuckled Elsa, waving her hand dismissively, "We can blend in anywhere if we want to,"

Alex nodded his head but did not seem so convinced.

Feeling that something had to been done about the ice between them, Elsa looped her arm through Alex's and pulled him into the crowd. Alex, at first, seemed a little surprised by her action. But slowly, he adjusted, fixing a genuine smile on his handsome face as together, they traversed the show grounds.

"I've not been to many carnivals," Elsa muttered quietly, staring at her surroundings.

"Really? Wow," remarked Alex, his surprise evident in his expression, "My sister and I used to always go…"

Alex began to trail off, his face clouding over.

In this time together, of all the opportunities she could have utilized, Elsa did not know all that much about Alex' past. She knew that he had spent four years in a maximum security prison, ever since he was seventeen. She knew that he had had a sister, and for many years, they had lived in place. But past this fact, she knew nothing.

And the more and more that she thought about, the more she felt insulted. He knew everything about her, why couldn't he do the same?

"What…what happened to your sister?" asked Elsa tentatively, trying to maintain the balance between sincerity and curiosity.

"She died," Alex offered simply. Perhaps Alex felt that this would suffice, but it was certainly not the case for Elsa.

"Do you mind if I…if I ask…I mean-" Elsa stuttered, struggling to find the right words.

"How?" Alex finished for her.

Elsa nodded.

He sighed, scratching his nose as he stared ahead.

"It's a long story," he muttered.

Elsa smiled; at least he was willing to talk. With the arm she had slipped through his, Elsa squeezed his hand once, reassuring him of her support.

Alex looked to her, his eyes darting back and forth in their sockets. He finally sighed, pulling her closer as they continued their walk.

"When I was a little boy, my parents died in an aeroplane accident," He began, staring straight ahead, "They hadn't named a guardian for me in their will, so the welfare authorities placed me in an orphanage. I never fitted in with the other kids. I was puny and weak, just another excuse to pick on I suppose."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, clearly holding back tears. When he was ready, he continued.

"When I was about seven, the Blandings adopted me," Alex paused for a moment, as if he was carefully calculating what to say next. "They already had a daughter but their son, Todd, he died in a car crash not long before I came into the family and I suppose, they were looking for someone to…to-"

"To take his place?" suggested Elsa.

"Yeah I guess," agreed Alex.

A sudden sadness clouded the young man's handsome face, distorting the rakish features so much; it rendered him looking far older than what he was.

"I spent my whole life trying to be the son they wanted, to fill Todd's shoes but every time I looked into their eyes, I just knew I was failing at it," he said, laughing bitterly, "No one could replace Todd and no one, not even me, could fill the void he left. But their daughter, Lacey, she really did become my little sister,"

Alex smiled and in doing so, Elsa smiled too.

"I mean, we both of us knew we weren't related but it didn't matter, you know? We felt like family, so it didn't really matter what the documents said. I don't think I ever loved someone like I did Lacey."

For the first time, perhaps in all the time that she had known him, Elsa saw something in different Alex. Not arrogance, not cockiness or the superior air that came with being as good looking as he. But something far more deeper and far more…human.

"But a few years ago, when I was eighteen…he came back."

"Who came back?"

"Brandon Mason," The name was practically spat out, every fibre of hatred and anger resonating in Alex's voice. "The kid who had been driving the car Todd died in."

Elsa could not imagine meeting such a person, someone who had caused so much destruction and mayhem. Someone who had never been met but had caused such a change in one's life. And yet, it was because of this destruction that Alex came to be adopted by the Blandings. And if it weren't for that, Alex would never have been recruited perhaps and in turn, Elsa would never have met him.

Perhaps, Elsa should thank this man.

"After Todd died, Brandon went missing," Alex continued, "For years no one could find him; it was like he had vanished into thin air. They never found him, in turn his case never went to court and he was never convicted. We all knew he did it though. But no one could find him. No one could hold him to it. But for some reason, he came back. Of course, I didn't recognize him but Lacey knew exactly who he was. He tried to talk to us, some sort of reconciliation. He said he was sorry and that there wasn't a day that went by he didn't want to kill himself for what he did. I suppose he was remorseful, but Lacey...she started screaming and shrieking and threatening Brandon. Said we were gonna tie him up and go straight to the cops."

"Did you?" asked Elsa.

"We never got to," said Alex darkly, "I didn't know if Lacey was kidding or not but she seemed genuine enough. I don't think that would have been my way of doing things and in all honesty, I didn't think Brandon had bought it. But Lacey sounded so sure, that Brandon panicked and he pulled a gun on us, told us to get into his car."

The couple turned left, dodging a few children as they delved deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the carnival.

"We had no choice so we did. He drove us for a while, over the border into New York. He kept on telling us that we were going to die, that he wasn't let us get to the cops. That he couldn't go to prison. And…I don't know. I started to freak out. Up until that point, I didn't think Brandon had the balls to do anything serious but he just seemed so…so honest. That's not even the right word, but you get what I mean?"

"Yeah," assured Elsa.

"He pulled over about twenty minutes into New York, said he was stopping for a piss. He told me to get out of the car and I did. As soon as I got out, he kicked me between the legs. He just started to lay into me. Sending his foot into my sides, punching my face, wrapping his hands around my neck and spitting all over me. I guess he wanted to get rid of me first and leave Lacey to last."

"And that's when something snapped in me, I don't know what," Alex clenched his jaw, "When I realised that once he was done with me, he would move onto Lacey...I could feel the fire building in me. My sole concern was Lacey. It kept building and building until I could feel it in my blood. Before I could do anything about it, I killed him,"

"With your mutation?"

"Yeah. There was nothing left of him. He was so burnt it was impossible to tell if he was human or not. And oh God, the smell..."

Elsa mulled in this information, trying her best to sort it through. So Alex really was a murderer. But, what choice had he had? What option had he been left with? He had to protect himself, his sister-

_Oh God. _

It was as if a brick had dropped in Elsa's stomach.

"But, w-what about Lacey?" she asked, her mouth dry.

Alex paused, his face wrought with distressed. "I was just so distracted with my anger, so absorbed in what I was doing…I didn't realise she had stepped in to try and save me. When I released my blasts, she was too close to Brandon and she got caught in them. There was nothing left of her."

He looked to her, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I didn't know Elsa, I didn't know," he whispered.

"Did you call the police?" stammered Elsa.

"Yes. And I told them the truth," Alex managed to choke out, "As much as they would believe. We were kidnapped, he was hurting us and I tried to get us away by setting him on fire. That Lacey just got caught in the crossfire. Obviously they didn't believe me. They put me before a court; I had no case considering I couldn't tell them about my mutation so I went to jail,"

"What about your parents?" she asked, noticing that her palms had begun to sweat.

"When they arrested me, I told them Lacey's full name. But when they asked for mine...I gave them 'Summers'," he said.

"Why?"

"I didn't want them to know that they had adopted a monster. I didn't want to drag their name through the mud," There was disgust in Alex's voice, mingled with despair and pain.

"You're not a monster Alex," urged Elsa, yanking at his arm, "You could have told them, Alex. You could have-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Don't you get it Elsa?" exclaimed Alex, pushing her away, "I _wanted _to go prison. I _had_ to go to prison,"

Elsa did not respond, only blinking her eyes several times.

"For god's sake, I killed my sister," exclaimed Alex, shaking Elsa's shoulders, "I needed to be punished,"

"It wasn't your fault," she muttered quietly.

"No amount of reassurance will ever rid me of the guilt I feel, Elsa!"

The two stood there quietly, each unable to neither move nor speak. So much had been divulged, so much revealed. To Elsa, Alex's burden seemed far more traumatic than her own.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, dabbing away the tears.

"Guess we're on equal footing now," mumbled Alex, running a hand through his golden hair.

"Yes, I suppose we are," smiled Elsa, her tone sardonic.

She looked to her surroundings, her eyes waltzing the various venders and prize stalls. She patted Alex a few times, motioning to the rows of game stalls.

"Come on, win me something," she laughed, pulling him forward.

They came across the biggest one in sight, a stall owned by a bald and rather chubby man. Behind him, stood three tiered rows of soda cans. And behind that, was a plethora of stuffed animals and prizes. All doe eyed and exaggeratingly designed, it was perhaps a small child's dream.

Elsa noticed, and rather amusedingly, a stuffed deer in the corner. It was undoubtedly the largest one there and she was instantly attracted to it.

Alex took notice.

"Hello, hello. On a little date are we?" asked the vendor, leaning on his bench. "Which one are you after?"

"That one," said Alex, pointing to the deer.

"Whoar!" exclaimed the stall owner, nodding his head appreciatively. "Well, you're gonna have to be pretty damn fine to get that one; you've got to hit the one's at the back."

"Maybe we should move onto something a little easier," teased Elsa.

"We'll see about that," scoffed Alex.

Alex handed him a few dollars and in turn, the vendor handed Alex three round balls. Elsa stood to the side, watching as Alex positioned himself.

He held his arm back, his eyes carefully targeting the back cans.

It was almost a rapid fire sequence, the balls hitting the cans with warp like speed and lightening precision.

Elsa, along with a few others, cheered.

"Aha! Well done, my boy! Well done!" the vendor beamed, handing the deer over to Alex, "There we go,"

"Thanks," smiled Alex.

"No thank you," the man winked.

Alex turned to Elsa and held out his free hand, Elsa taking it without hesitation.

"For you," he said, placing the deer into Elsa's arms.

Elsa smiled to herself. Of course, Alex did not know the significance of the deer, perhaps he never would. But it had been his first impression of her and that would never leave Elsa.

"What?" he asked, noticing her expression.

"No, it's nothing," blushed Elsa, "Thank you,"

The couple continued to walk arm in arm, marvelling at the sights and sounds. The night was slowly settling in, the darkness beginning to take over the sky.

The two halted suddenly, a rather large obstruction in their way.

A tall, brightly dressed and excessively coloured clown stood before them. For a moment, Elsa wondered if the clown was in fact a mutant, his height impossible on human scales. But, and with much sheepishness, she realised that he was probably standing on pair of well concealed stilts.

"What a lovely couple you two make!" said the clown, towering over them. He pinched his red nose once, the contraption honking loudly.

Alex and Elsa laughed.

"Ah, so pretty!" he sighed, pinching Elsa's cheek. He plucked a plastic flower from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed it to her.

"A flower for the girl," he claimed. He winked casually at Elsa before turning to Alex. His eyes twinkled mischieveously, a wicked grin spreading.

Seeing this, Elsa entered his mind. But she was too late to decifpher his plans as the clown pinched the flower on his lapel and squirted a heavy stream of water into Alex's face.

"And…a drink for the boy!" the clown laughed, running off far into the distance.

"Hey!" shrieked Alex, spluttering and choking. Elsa could not help but laugh, wondering why she had even tried to stop the clown in the first place.

Thoroughly soaked, the boy looked as if someone had incited his inner demons.

Alex moved to run after the clown.

"No, Alex! Let it go!" Elsa laughed, just grabbing a hold of now wet jacket.

"Did you see that?" exclaimed Alex, trying his best to shake the water out of his hair, "Oh, I'm going to make him pay for that. I…"

Alex began to mutter a string of obscenities, but by now, Elsa was no longer with him. Physically yes, but her mind was elsewhere.

She had spotted something, something she wasn't sure of. It was hard to tell from the crowd, there were so many by now. It had only entered her sight for a split second, but that had been enough to send her body rigid with fear.

Was she just seeing things?

Perhaps it was a trick of the light?

Surely she wasn't going mad?

She saw it again and this time she was sure. Elsa's heart leapt into her mouth, her ears singing with the pounding of her heated blood. She clutched the stuffed deer, tightly in her hand, the poor thing distorting in her grip.

His blond hair was sticking out from the mass, large broad shoulders like a tower amongst the others. His golden beard bristling in the wind, his scowling countenance an aberration in this place of happiness.

Lewis.

"…come on, I wanna go on the Ferris wheel," Alex's voice drifted back.

Elsa did not, could not speak. A billion things were running through her head and taking a ride on a giant circle was not on her agenda.

"Elsa?" she heard Alex persist.

"Come on,"

Elsa grabbed his hand and without warning, dragged him and herself into the ever growing crowds. Alex scowled and protested, demanding to know what the hell she was doing. But Elsa had no time to respond, no time to explain.

She slinked them past a small family, ducking behind them as she pushed them deeper and deeper into the carnival.

She needed to get away, she needed to put herself as far as she could from him.

"Elsa? Wh-what are you doing?" cried Alex, struggling to free himself from her iron grip.

"Shush! Lower your voice!" urged Elsa, urgently searching for a place to hide.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?" demanded Alex, almost tripping over his feet. He voice paused, his tone slightly worried. "Are you going to kill me?"

"He's here," breathed Elsa, turning to face her new beau for a brief moment.

"Who?" Alex asked, he too a little breathless.

"He found me,"

Her voice was almost a whisper, she herself unable to completely comprehend.

Utterly frustrated by her ambiguity, Alex yanked hard on Elsa's arm and pulled her to a halt. He grabbed her shoulders and looked right into her eyes, his tone even and strong.

"Who, Elsa?"

"Lewis Worthington,"

The name was alien to her, and yet so much a part of her. Elsa had never imagined that Lewis, once very much a father to her, would one day strike such fear and despair into her heart. She was rendered motionless, her shoulders quivering as she struggled to keep herself from falling.

Alex's eyes widened, his grip loosening. He had a 'oh Jesus' expression on his face, he too now plastered with fear.

He desperately looked around, hoping against hope that bastard had managed to track them any further.

Elsa had somehow led them into the main tent, inside the back stages where only the employees were allowed. But it was not enough; a flip of the flimsy fabric would reveal them almost immediately and everything would have been for nothing.

This time taking the lead, Alex led his girl into the under mass of the seats.

"Here," he muttered.

He pushed her into a rather box like area, capable of perhaps fitting one person. Elsa sprawled before him, only just managing to clutch onto a rail.

Without thinking, he joined her. He pushed and contorted himself until finally he fitted. Still shaking violently, Elsa rested her against Alex's chest, soaking his shirt with her sweat.

"Is he gone?" she whispered, her voice cracked and hoarse.

"I think so," he breathed back, hoping he was right.

Elsa relaxed against his arms, muffing her voice against his body. Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head against Alex's chest. Her quickened breath slowed down, synchronizing with the beat of his heart.

"That was close,"

"How do you think he found you?" he asked, trying his hardest to recompose himself.

"I don't know. I don't know,"

She was so tired, so god damn exhausted. Even when she thought that her life was staring to rebuild, the Fates decided to screw everything up again.

Lewis was here. He was_ here_. He had managed to find.

How? She asked herself.

What had he done to get here? How many more had he hurt? What did it mean for her and her friends? More importantly, her dear Uncle and Aunt?

Elsa's head was spinning.

Alex could feel her sobbing against him, her fragile body threatening to disintegrate right before him. He gently tugged on her chin and titled her head towards his own.

"Hey…hey it's alright. It's fine," he soothed, "I'm here,"

Neither of the two quite knew who started it, only knowing that now, their lips had somehow intertwined. Elsa could feel Alex's arms holding her tighter, his thin lips working against her own. They were locked in a passionate dance of desire, each holding onto the other for dear life as they struggled to make sense of things.

Elsa felt her own hand snaking up and around Alex's neck, pulling him even closer and their kiss even deeper.

But it was wrong. It felt too wrong.

This most sacred of embraces, this culmination of passion and desire…it had spawned from love. From the sudden realization that neither could live without the other; it had risen from fear.

A dastardly situation had brought them together, here under a web of steel construction and putrid hay.

This action had occurred because of their need for security and reassurance, not love.

And so, it was Elsa who broke it off. She pulled herself away, unable to completely look him in the eye.

Alex too, seemed to have realised, for he could not face her either.

At least the sense was mutual.

The two detangled themselves from each other, careful not to badger their heads on the steel rails as they warily stood up.

Elsa peeked out from a gap in the tent coverings, noting that it was now well into the night. The moon had come out and the bright lights of the carnival shone even more luminously than before.

"Come on," she said quietly," We-we'd better get back to the others,"

Alex nodded slowly, rendered speechless.

He looked up to her, his eyes finally reaching her own.

'_Are we still…?'_ he asked in his mind.

'_Yes,'_ returned Elsa, smiling.

They were, they truly were. What they felt for one another could not be denied, and even though this kiss had been their first it was certainly not their last. This moment, this brief break from the real world had reassured the two the loyalty they felt for each other. Nothing could break them, not even the fear of death or something far more terrible.

It was reiterated, their friendship and that something more. It emphasised that they were there for each other, that together they would battle their internal fears and travel deep into the abyss of the unknown.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>**Thank you so much to SkysFireLady15; you bring me up with your support!**


	19. The Help

Chapter 19

-The Help-

Elsa rested her arms on the stone fence, its soothing chilliness tingling her heated skin. She bowed her head slightly, trying to catch her breath. She had spent the entire day training, predominantly by herself but training nonetheless. Nowadays, she felt that she could run further, last longer and push herself more than ever before.

Perhaps her muscles were finally strengthening, finally adapting to the strenuous exercise. Or perhaps her mind was so occupied with other thoughts her body did not seem to notice the influx of activity.

Either way, at least her constant motion did not render her useless and obsolete.

She tipped herself onto her toes, taking in a deep breath.

A few days had passed since her date with Alex, her near run in with Lewis. Elsa still felt shaken, and was horrified to see that her body had mirrored the sentiment. But more than fear and disturbance, she felt something far more unpleasant; emptiness.

There was a big hole in her heart, the void that Lewis Worthington had once occupied. Her once father figure had been tossed into the dust bin of her life but he still had a hold of her, a hold she couldn't entirely shake off.

What really bothered her though was how he had come into such close proximity.

How on earth had he gotten this close?

It worried Elsa immensely, though Charles was sure that it had been a mere coincidence.

What also bugged Elsa, what been nagging her from the moment she had returned home that night, was the disappointment she felt.

A first kiss should have been the culmination of love and longing, a way of sealing something real into the relationship. But the kiss she had shared with Alex had been borne of fear and apprehension, a mere reflex of the body.

Alex did not seem entirely bothered by it, a kiss was a kiss. And perhaps that was where their incompatibility lied; Elsa was moved by the tiniest details, whilst Alex took everything into his stride.

Elsa shook her head, chuckling as she did. She had never expected her relationship with Alex to have been normal, but the curiousness of their situation was not lost on her.

Elsa closed her eyes and immediately snapped them open again as she heard the crunching of stone beneath feet. She looked to her left.

Erik emerged from the shadows of the towering willow trees, hands in pockets and a curious smile on his handsome face.

Elsa, with a pang of nostalgia, realised how long it had been since she had had a proper conversation with her friend. She had been so caught up in her own troubles, her business with Alex that she had forgotten to pay attention to the person who had perhaps been there for her the most.

She could only imagine what he was feeling right now. They were getting so close to Shaw, so close to potential World War, Elsa could not begin to comprehend the melee of emotions Erik was probably experiencing.

"You alright?" he asked her, titling his head to the side.

"Erik," said Elsa quietly, smiling politely.

"You've been very quiet, ever since you returned from the carnival," He said, standing beside her. He looked right into her eyes, his blue ones boring into her brown ones. Elsa felt as if he was undressing her mind, in an intrusive but permitted manner.

She had not told him about Alex or Lewis and judging by his question, neither had Charles.

"I kissed Alex," she muttered quietly, wondering why it felt so shameful to admit it.

"Did you, now?" asked Erik, his brow raised. In a rather uncharacteristic move, he winked and nudged her in the ribs.

"Was it reciprocated?"

"Yes. I think so," mumbled Elsa.

"So why so glum?" He smirked, "That bad at kissing are you?"

"Lewis was there," she said, shuffling her feet as she ignored his little quip, "Lewis Worthington,"

Erik stood to attention, his back rigid. His expression turned stoned and cold, his lips parting a little. He looked as surprised as Charles had been.

"Did he see you?" he asked, leaning against her arm.

"I don't think so,"

"That's rather unsettling," Erik muttered to himself. He twisted his fingers nervously in his hands, bitting his bottom lip a little.

"What did you do?"

"I took Alex, and…I ran," Elsa admitted, her shoulders deflating in disappointment.

"Ran where?"

"I dunno. Away from him. Hid somewhere,"

Elsa stopped and stared, realising that Erik's expression had changed. It no longer appeared concerned and bothered by what had happened, now rather angered and somewhat...annoyed.

"What?" she asked, shaking her head.

"The whole point of this training, the whole point of all of this is so you learn to confront your enemies; not run from them," His tone was dismissive and condescending, his lips pulled into a half-snarl. He seemed thoroughly disappointed in Elsa, as if she had committed a sin.

"We were at a public venue, Erik," spluttered Elsa, "I couldn't just…just…_morph _and take Lewis right there and then,"

"Why not? I thought it was triggered by fear, and anger?" snapped Erik.

"I-I..."

"So why didn't it work?" He shot, slapping her arm lightly.

"Erik...?" Elsa backed off from the stone fence and put all her weight onto her feet. She stood square to Erik, her arms stiff at her sides.

_What's he doing?_

"Huh? Tell me," demanded Erik, shoving her back with one hand, "Is it_ that_ hard to take a stand?"

That last sentence resonated uncomfortably within Elsa and for once, she caught herself wishing that she was anywhere but with Erik.

"No. I was...it just..." Elsa didn't know what to say. She was half saddened by his accusations, half confused by his actions.

"Don't you hate him for what he did?"

"Yes! Of course! What kind of question is that-?"

Erik stood right in front of Elsa, his nose touching hers as he breathed down his allegations. "Then why didn't you do anything?"

"I don't know!" Elsa took a few hurried steps back, almost falling over in the process. She could see what Erik was trying to do and she was fighting to make sure it didn't happen.

"Are you weak?" he sneered.

"No!"

"Really? Prove it," This time he shoved her back with his hands, Elsa only just managing to catch herself.

She could feel the pain lumping in her throat, her mind reeling with hurt and perplexity.

"Erik..."

"Go on, show me," He advanced towards her, compensating for the distance she had created between them.

"Erik, stop it!"

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Erik I know what you're trying to do,"

Once again, he was right beside her, backing her up against a wall of the Mansion. Elsa placed both her hands on his chest and pushed as hard as she could.

She was appalled by his strength.

"Erik stop!" her cry came out mangled and twisted, Elsa herself unable to understand it. She was crying now, her lips blubbering and her eyes red with tears. She slipped out from beneath him and attempting to run back inside.

Erik caught her by the elbow and pulled her back.

His eyes were flaring with excitement, his shark like teeth bared.

"Tell me, Elsa, when you saw your brothers' blood spraying all over the wall-"

"Stop," croaked Elsa, tugging at Erik's iron grip.

"-what did you feel? Did you feel _anything _at all?"

"Don't!"

"I doubt you did Elsa!" Erik exclaimed, his booming voice echoing across the estate, "You were probably the most powerful mutant amongst all of them and yet you did _nothing_!"

"No," whispered Elsa, looking right into his eyes.

"You did nothing, because you were_ weak_!"

"No!"

"You were weak for the love you felt for that human! You're a disgrace-!"

"Stop!"

"An utter_ disgrace_ to mutants!"

Elsa could take no more, every ounce of strength she had been harbouring to keep from morphing was now lost. She had never felt more insulted, more degraded, more humiliated than this moment in time.

How could he? How could he use her past in such a manner? Turn everything against her like that? He was her friend, for goodness sake! If there was anyone she had expected clemency from, it was Erik.

But no, he had provoked her. Twisted and prodded until she could take no more.

Her anger boiled over.

Her wings unsheathed from within her, her finger nails elongating into vicious talons. Her feet grew and contorted, the skin now rubbery and cracked like that of a hawk.

She could feel her front fangs slipping over bottom lip, just knowing that her eyes were changing too.

She could see that Erik's expression had changed, frightened if anything. But he could do nothing now, and with all the strength she could muster, Elsa took Erik by the shoulders and pushed him back.

"I SAID STOP!"

Her words boomed, the tone demonic and twisted, completely devoid of human semblance. They tumbled forward down the small hill, landing with a thud at the end.

Elsa slammed Erik down, making sure to knock the wind out of him.

She hissed, her ears flattening themselves against her head.

Erik looked astonished, more than that in fact. In all the time that she had known him, Elsa could not remember a time when Erik had ever looked so frightened.

His eyes were wide, his skin pale. His chest was heaving rapidly and his mouth gaping open.

Already Elsa could feel parts of Valkyrie leaving her, but for the time being, remained intact in her soul.

Much to Elsa's astonishment, Erik's countenance began to soften. The corners of his mouth began to crease and the terror that had occupied his face was now replaced by jubilation. He threw his head back, his manic laughter echoing in the air.

"See?" he gasped, "Was that so hard?"

Elsa promptly pulled herself onto her feet, her wings slowly sheathing and her limbs returning to her human state.

She placed her hands behind her head and rubbed her skull vigorously. She felt shamed, used and broken once more. Erik had twisted her and without much thought, she had bent to his will.

What exactly had Erik been trying to prove? What was he trying to show? That she really was a monster? That Lewis actually had had reason to kill her?

She looked back to Erik, the older man still choking with laughter.

Feeling utterly defeated, she kicked Erik in the shin.

"Fuck, Erik," she muttered, as she turned on her heel and ran up into the mansion. She left Erik there, sobbing as she stairs, his laughter rumbling in her ears.

* * *

><p>Erik dragged on the Cuban cigar for a platonic length, savouring its bitter-sweet taste on his tongue. He finally pulled it away, letting the toxic smoke fill his nose. He could feel the fumes travelling in his nasal passage, poisoning the sensitive tissue there.<p>

Well, the poisoning he couldn't be sure of. But Charles was always in his ear about the dangers of tobacco consumption and considering the level of Charles' intelligence, the Genetics Professor couldn't be too wrong.

He leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes as he allowed his head to slump to the side.

He couldn't say that he was proud of his actions today; in fact he was rather ashamed. It had been terribly off hand of him, to have make Elsa the perpetrator of her predicament. But his inner savage hadn't been able to contain itself, outraged by Elsa's absence of (for lack of a better term) balls.

Hopefully he had not lost a friend today. Knowing Elsa she was probably crying her eyes out right now, cursing and muttering dark thoughts. But with any luck she'd be able to let it all slide...

How could he help it though? How could he help it if Elsa had been weak and callous? Hadn't it been the right thing to do, to show her just far she could go?

Erik, broken from his thoughts, opened one eye as he heard the door to his room creak slightly.

From the limited vision he had, Erik could see a set of perfectly pressed trousers, with a pair of hands tucked into the immaculate pockets.

Erik closed his eye again.

"Charles,"

"Elsa told me what you said to her, what you made her do," scowled Charles' voice, getting right to the point, "I can't believe you Erik,"

Erik immediately snapped back up, his eyes wide open.

Charles was a good friend, Erik would not deny that. He had felt something akin to brotherhood from the moment they had met. But nothing could negate their blaring differences.

Erik could feel a speech coming forth and if that were the case, he was going to put up a pretty good fight.

"Can't believe what, Charles?" snapped Erik, dragging on his cigar, "That I did the one thing you've thus far failed to do?"

"Failed to do? And what's that, call her a coward and a disgrace?" scoffed Charles, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well congratulations for beating me to it Erik!"

"_Push _her," growled Erik, "Make her realise her potential,"

He got up from his seat, one hand behind his back as he paced the room.

"I've realised her potential my friend and so has she. We've discussed this, we know what to do with her power," declared Charles.

"Lock it away in a basement you mean?"

"I care for the _person_, Erik, not the mutation," said Charles disdainfully. He crossed his hands in his lap and leaned back into his seat, a sign Erik had noted that Charles believed he was winning an argument.

"She's not a person, Charles; she's a mutant," returned Erik with lightening speed.

"Her mutation has the potential to completely destroy her if it is not dealt with properly!" exclaimed Charles, throwing his hands into the air, "If I had resorted to your antics, your barbaric methods, she would be in a psychiatric ward or, god forbid, on death row for murder by now!"

"You're trying to repress who she really is!"

"You're trying to make her into something she really isn't!"

The two men remained stoic in their positions, eyeing the other with distaste. Erik was willing to play out this war or words, even if it continued into the night.

But it was Charles who broke away. He sighed heavily, temporarily closing his eyes as he rested two fingers against his temple.

Erik steeled his mind from the coming mental intrusion, but was surprised when it did not come. Instead, Charles too rose from his seat and strode over to him.

Charles looked right into Erik's eyes, something that rather unsettled Erik and placed a hand on his arm.

"She's not a power hungry third century Goth. She's not hell bent on destroying the human race," chuckled Charles softly, "She's just a child, Erik,"

Erik pulled away from Charles' grip, finishing his cigar on the ash tray sitting on the book shelf. He sighed heavily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I care about her Charles," muttered Erik.

"I know. You find commonplace with her and I understand that," said Charles gently, "But you need to treat her like I do; with sensitivity. Not everyone has been as hardened by life as you. "

Erik turned to his friend, smirking as he did. If there was any truth it what Charles was saying, it was this. He forgot at times, that it had been eighteen years since his time in the Camps. He had forgotten how long he had been travelling the world, searching and destroying not only the people who had caused the most misery in his young life, but himself as well.

Everything he did now was almost automatic, nothing affected him too much.

"She's seeing Alex," said Erik, feeling abashed at his shameless derision of the topic at hand.

"That's a good thing Erik. It's a _very _good thing," smiled Charles, his blue eyes twinkling, "I don't want you to do anything to sabotage that,"

"She saw Worthington, at the carnival,"

"I know, she told me,"

"Should we be concerned?" Erik sniffed, raising his brow momentarily. He felt a little wounded, realising that Elsa had turned to Charles for confinement rather than himself.

"Concerned that he got this close, but unconcerned because he'll never find us," declared Charles, flicking his curly locks out of his eyes.

"You seem so sure?"

"I trust Moira and her agents. Anonymity can only stretch so far, but it'll be enough to keep Worthington out,"

Charles smiled contently, seemingly convinced by his words.

Erik on the other hand was a little pessimistic.

Trust was a very delicate thing in this day and age. It could not been given easily, nor could it be formulated as such. One had to be careful who to trust and how far that trust travelled.

Erik trusted Moira and her suits as much as he trusted Shaw, and at times, he could not believe Charles' credulous and ready nature.

There was nothing Erik could do to bring Charles over to his point of view. They were polar opposites. Forever rejecting the each other, but needing the other in order to survive.

Erik recoiled at that thought, the thought of dependency on another mutant.

After all these years, Erik had learnt that the only person he could rely on was himself, and hopefully he had not lost that. He wanted Elsa to follow in his footsteps, to harden herself against a world that did not want her.

He just hoped that Charles could have it in him to understand that.

* * *

><p>The feel of his skin against her own was a rather strange sensation. His hide was tough and hardened, shiny with burns and pink scars; it was an alien feeling. Elsa wondered what exactly Alex had done with these battered hands, the pain he had felt and the joy he may have exulted. She wondered the things he may have done with these hands, what he may have been forced to do.<p>

She gulped back, remembering what had happened with Lacey. What Alex had been forced to do that day.

She bowed her head slightly, running her free hand over her chin.

Elsa felt a squeeze on her hand and turned her head. Alex smiled quizzically at her, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

Elsa smiled, shaking her head. "It's nothing,"

Alex chuckled, unsure as to whether to believe her not. But after a little thought, decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. They walked in silence for a moment, before Elsa spoke again.

"How's your, um..._firing _going?" asked Elsa, releasing herself from his hand and starting to walk backwards, facing him.

They had just come out of gym training, something Elsa still was not akin to but nonetheless participated in. They both had been sweating like pigs, although the extent of Alex's efforts were far more evident; his sweat patches travelled far and wide his muscular body.

"Still can't aim," laughed Alex, "It's like I'm potty training all over again,"

They turned a corner, entering the below ground section of the mansion. Here lay Hank's laboratory, Charles' father's nuclear bunker and the vast garage that housed Professor Xavier's fleet of first class motor vehicles.

"Isn't Hank working on something?" smiled Elsa.

"He is, but it's taking _so_ much time," whined Alex, throwing his head back a little. Elsa giggled at Alex's impatience, the boy scowling in return.

They stopped where they were, savouring this moment of peace between them. Things had been ramped up as of late, news of the advancing Russians and Shaw disconcerting everyone. It seemed that nuclear war was in fact a very real possibility. They hardly had a moment to themselves, something that most normal couples were entitled to.

But much to her own amusement, Elsa checked herself. She and Alex were the furthest thing from normal.

Elsa spun on her heel, letting out a breath nosily through her nose. She stopped suddenly, eyeing the curious double doors of the nuclear bunker.

She had never been inside before; she had never needed to. Her realm had been the open air and the vast stretches of ground on the Xavier Estate. But from what she had heard and seen Alex had, at times, practically lived in there. It was the only place on the entire Xavier Estate that could withstand the severity of Alex's energy blasts.

Elsa unlocked the doors and entered the bunker, Alex hesitantly following her. She marvelled at the gargantuan space, the dome like ceiling stretching on for what seemed like miles. It was horribly dark, but Elsa could see a half-burnt mannequin standing by itself a few metres away.

"You've been practising in here?" she asked, her voice echoing.

"Yeah," muttered Alex.

Elsa smiled mischievously, an idea formulating in her head. It was not one of her best ideas, no, but after what Erik had done this morning, she felt as if she could take on the world.

"But with mannequins?"

Elsa could see Alex's face fall, his expression darkening. Even in the half light it was clear he was not happy with what was unfolding.

"Yeah," Alex looked over his shoulder, anxious to leave the bunker, "Look Elsa..."

"Come on,"

She strutted over to the mannequin, gave it a comical salute and stood next to it.

"Elsa, what are you doing?" asked Alex, his tone stern and his fists slowly balling.

"Aim for the mannequin," ordered Elsa.

"With you still there?" scoffed Alex. He threw up his hands and began to back away, "No. _No_,"

"Come on, you'll learn to aim," giggled Elsa. She could tell she was angering Alex, but for some reason, it did not bother her.

"Elsa, God no!" roared Alex.

"Alex come on!" whined Elsa, "How else are you going to-?"

Elsa immediately desisted, watching as Alex practically flew over to her. He looked completely outraged, his eyes flashing and his jaw clenched. Elsa backed a little, suddenly afraid.

Still fuming, Alex grabbed Elsa's arm and tugged her close.

"Elsa, did I not tell you how I killed my sister?" he hissed, his breath blowing against her face.

"I was, I was just trying to help," whimpered Elsa, feeling like mouse pitted against a lion.

He let go of her arm with much power, forcing Elsa to step back a little. He glared at Elsa scornfully, shaking as his head as he began to head out of the bunker.

"Don't," his voice commanded, the tones and pitches bouncing off the dome walls and into Elsa's ears.

The bunker door slammed shut, the breech siren wailing as Elsa was left alone in the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ermehgherd , 65 reviews! Wow, thank you so much to everyone who has ever favourite and alerted and reviewed! Your continual support is fantastic! <strong>

**Once again, particular and many thanks to LizziePixie-Aiko and SkysFireLady15**

**But I'm curious, am I moving too slow?**

**Also, i understand how shameless it is, but if any of you like the Hunger Games, it would be much obliged if you check out my fic 'Blood Poison'? PLEASE? i'd like to know if its good or not? Thankyou!**


	20. Happiness

Chapter 20

-Happiness-

* * *

><p>'<em>We hold these truths to be sacred and undeniable: that all men are created equal and independent, that form that equal creation they derive rights that are inherent and inalienable, among which are preservation of life, and liberty , and the pursuit of happiness.'-Thomas Jefferson<em>

* * *

><p>She examined the apple in her hand, tossing it up and down in her palm. The flicked it up into the air, watching as it twirled and twisted, the sunlight catching its rosy sheen perfectly.<p>

Elsa did not particularly like apples, most especially the green ones. She recoiled at its sourness and the bitter taste it left in her mouth and simply could not understand the joy some people found in them. Red apples on the other hand, she could handle. She could take their overly sweet flesh over the bitterness of the greens any day.

Swinging her legs absently over the ledge, she took a bite into her apple. As she chewed, she threw her head back, letting the sun's rays gently caress her neck. It was a rather sunny day; rare considering that the whole week had been filled with rain and misery.

So Hank had decided that now would be the best time to test the flying apparatus he had designed for Sean, feeling he had to take the chance to test when he could. Elsa did not know the details, only that the thing allowed Banshee to carry himself in the air with the help of his supersonic waves.

Sean was to strap on the apparatus, sit on the ledge of Hank's laboratory window and jump down. It wasn't as if Sean would be jumping into the unknown; there was a small platform not a few metres below. But still, Hank and Charles had asked everyone to witness the achievement, a move Elsa supposed would encourage Sean.

She had been flying that morning, not for training but for her own leisure. And so unlike the others, she was not watching from inside; rather from a second storey ledge. She quickly glanced at the second window at which Erik, Raven and Alex had gathered. She caught Erik's eye and smiled, feeling a little rosy as the older man winked back.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to assure her that things were alright between the two. Erik had been so quiet lately; she hadn't been sure if she had done something wrong or if he was simply being withdrawn on purpose.

Sean emerged from the window above the platform, donning his grey tracksuit and now with Hank's flying apparatus strapped to him. Elsa could see Hank's bony hands adjusting and fixing the straps, with Charles at the other side offering Sean words of reassurance.

Sean himself looked a mix of fear and exhilaration, although that was to be expected of the boy. It seemed to Elsa that Sean never took anything seriously and when he did, he masked his dread with a devil-may-care smile.

"…you need to make sure to scream," She heard Charles' voice drift out of the wide window.

"You need the soundwaves to be supersonic. Catch them at the right angle and they should carry you," said Hank, smiling at Sean reassuringly.

"'They _should _carry me,'" mimicked Sean, as he snickered. His cheeks flushed a little. "That's reassuring!"

"Good luck," she heard Charles chuckle.

Elsa leaned a little closer, as eager as everyone else to see how exactly this would turn out. Sean prepared himself for descent, with Elsa almost laughing when he crossed his chest; she was sure he was not religious.

He stretched out his arms and Elsa could see that Hank had attached some sort of lightweight material along the entirety of both of Sean's arms.

_This_ was supposed to carry him?

"And don't forget to scream!" Charles added from within.

Elsa shook her head as Sean leaned out a little, his feet barely on the ledge. With one final stretch, he pushed himself off. But much to everyone's amusement and to Sean's dismay, he did not let out a might screech as intended, but rather a pitiful yelp.

"GAWAH!"

The mutants laughed heartily as Sean fell straight down on the platform below, just managing to swing his head to the side as he sprawled on the platform below. Apart from a few feeble groans and the unprecedented flip of the bird to his laughing comrades, Sean seemed relatively fine.

Hank looked dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing much like a fish, as he struggle to comprehend what exactly had gone wrong.

Still giggling a little, Charles patted Hank on the shoulder before popping his head out the window.

"Elsa!"

Elsa snapped up, her apple toppling out of her hand in her surprise and falling right onto Sean. The red haired boy looked up scathingly, the usually sunny Sean seething. Elsa could do nothing but shrug and mouth 'sorry.'

"Could you come inside for a moment?" Charles asked, pointing his finger inside.

"Sure,"

She got up to her feet and dusted herself off. Evidently, the roof tops of Xavier Mansion were not quite as kept as the rest of the home; it was covered in debris and dirt. She jumped down a few platforms, careful bend her knees as she landed, for she had learnt the hard way when one stilted one's ankles. She moved round the edge of the second floor and flung herself rather elegantly throw a window.

Charles spun round rather quickly, his glimmering smile an indication of his surprise; he had not expected to have arrived in such a manner.

"What is it?" asked Elsa, placing her hands on her hips.

"I…" Charles trailed off, a twinkle in his eyes. He placed his hands behind his back and smiled. "Why don't_ you_ tell me?"

Elsa smiled, careful to hide her irritation. Charles had been like this as of late, insisting she use her telepathy at any given moment, in order to strengthen her gift. But nonetheless, she did as her mentor told her and entered his mind.

"You've got something for me," said Elsa. That had relatively simple and knowing Charles, he had done so on purpose.

He smiled, nodding approvingly.

"And? What is it?" he asked, sounding excited.

She tried again and recoiled almost instantly; he was blocking her. It was a strange sensation, being consciously blocked. It was one thing to enter a mind unaware of her intrusion, to break down those premade barriers. But when faced with the skill of another telepath, the feeling was beyond what she had ever felt.

In her first few sessions, it had caused her great pain, akin to a knife being pushed through her hand. But as she continued to work with Charles, she developed a resistance to it.

But it was still there.

"I dunno," She shrugged, squinting her eyes, "You're blocking it from me."

"Get through the barrier then,"

"Charles…" began Elsa, tilting her head. He did not respond to pathetic whine, nor did he let up his knowing smile. She scoffed, strangely maintaining the connection between their minds.

She suddenly reached out for the hand that was tucked behind his back, however, Charles caught her wrist mid-assault.

"Ah, ah, ah!" tutted Charles, gently pushing her hand aside and waving the object out of her reach. It seemed to be a piece of paper of sorts, folded once.

"Charles, come on. We're not training at the moment," she whined.

"But it's not just about the training when I ask you to," he protested, "It's about integrating it with your everyday life, melding it with your habitual practises, it's…"

His voice quietened, his head slowly tilting as he began to chuckle quietly. Though she could have read his mind, Elsa could see glint in Charles' eyes.

"_Fine,"_ he conceded.

He handed her the piece of paper and as she unravelled it, she came to realise it was two pieces wrapped within each other. One was a handwritten letter, the other what seemed to be a very grainy black photograph. She held the letter aside for a moment and examined the black photo.

It was a rather strange thing, incredibly grainy and almost impossible to truly comprehend. It was mostly black, but there was a shape in the middle and that in itself was grey. It, the object, was rather fuzzy around the edges and for a moment, Elsa thought she was just looking a grey blob.

But then she realised.

"Is this…?" She began, her jaw hanging as she looked up to Charles.

"Yes," he smiled. His wide grin reached his eyes, his eyes sparkling with glee.

It was a baby. It was a picture of an unborn baby. One still within its mother's womb. Now she could see it; it's round and bulbous head, the curve of its feet and the curve of its back, its tiny little fingers.

It had to be her little cousin, Tobias and Marie's child.

"Amazing isn't it? What they can do these days?" Charles sighed, his breath genuinely taken, "Your uncle sent it to Moira, along with that,"

He pointed to the letter, still unread in her hand. Elsa carefully placed the picture of the baby into her pocket and examined the parchment-coloured paper.

Marie's handwriting was immediately recognizable.

'_Meet our little boy! He's coming along nicely isn't he? I think it's safe to say that he looks more like me than his father! We both feel your void terribly and really wishing that you were here! But, of course, we know how important this is. We'll say hello to our little Muller for you, in fact we're doing it right now. All our love our darling girl. Good luck,'_ -Love Aunt Marie and Uncle Tobias.

Elsa smiled, shaking her head at the fire slowly emanating in her heart. She realised that she truly missed her family, which she was in desperate need of visit. Of course, she wouldn't be able to see the baby just yet, but she'd like to sit there and listen for its heart, maybe even feel it kick within Marie's belly.

She couldn't wait to meet the little Muller. And though she was trying not to be too wishful, she had a feeling he might a mutant.

* * *

><p>Elsa drifted in and out of her sleep, reality mingling with the dreams that were fast losing their splendour. Vivid colours turning dark, defined shapes and figures blurring. She tossed from side to side, her subconscious more unable to find a comfortable position rather than desperate to escape the abyss of her mind.<p>

As if naturally and without force, Elsa's eyes flittered open, her consciousness returning. Her irises slowly filtered the dim light, her senses starting to reassess her situation.

She was lying on her bed, her door and windows closed, the only sound of life was the ticking of the cuckoo clock placed above her bedhead.

Groaning from the stiffness, Elsa slowly pushed herself off the mattress and onto her feet.

She rolled her head on her shoulders, feeling her tense muscles loosen a little; she had been training all day, running up and down the estate, flying high and mighty above the trees and combating mental barriers with Charles in the seclusion of his office.

Life had begun to pick up pace again, the stress of imminent nuclear war revealing its affects on everyone. Hank retreated into his lab more often, Raven found peace sitting inside the gym staring through the window for hours on end. Sean, most surprisingly, had become fairly muted as of late; his quick mouth unable to voice something with even slightest hint of wit. If there was anyone, out of the young mutants, who seemed completely unmoved, it was Alex. Either that or he was very good at concealing any worries he may be harbouring.

Even the usually calm Charles had begun to show the detrimental effects stress had on even the most rational of people. But he of course, was careful not to allow it to consume him.

Unlike Erik, who more often than not allowed his feelings to become the better of him. Elsa had noted his seclusion with a sharp sense of disheartenment, retreating into his own world as it was. He hardly came out of his room and if he did, it was merely to observe the activities of the others rather than any form of participation.

She shook her head.

She had enough on her own plate to contemplate, let alone thinking about the plight of others.

She needed something to help clear her head.

She had hoped sleep would have done the trick, but which ever fool had proclaimed that it was better to 'sleep on it', must have been a crackpot. Sleep did nothing to abate the worries and stress of life, it in fact made them worse.

She swayed sleepily over to the gramophone sitting in the corner of her room and placed the needle upon the disk.

Elsa closed her eyes and smiled slowly. Her head moved a little to the sweet yet slightly melancholy melody of Chopin's No.15 Prelude; the Raindrop Sonata. Amongst other things, it was her mother who had instilled the appreciation for the arts of old within Elsa. And for that she was thankful.

She had never been able to fully understand the beauty of music, or rather, how the mind could be so marred with confusion and complication and yet able to create such purity and honesty in such a beautiful form.

There had been times when Elsa had wondered if Chopin had been a mutant, for nothing other than genetic alterations in his genome could explain his genius.

Despite her previous reservations of dancing, even in the seclusion of one's own company, Elsa began to sway to the beat.

She began to twirl, allowing the sharps and flats to carry her feet as she spun elegantly across the room.

She had no idea where she was going, for her eyes were closed, but somehow she managed to avoid furniture or some other forms of hard objects.

She spun again and this time, was surprised to feel a foreign hand interlock with own of her own and another wrapping itself around her waist.

Elsa's eyes fluttered open, beaming as Alex Summers grinned mischievously back at her, his handsome face almost cherub like in the dim light and the backdrop of Chopin's sweet chimes.

"Hello," laughed Elsa.

He spun them round together and much to Elsa's surprise, with much practised elegance; he must have had lessons. Elsa thought to ask, but perhaps that was a story for another time.

"Hello," He placed a lingering kiss on her flushed cheek.

He pulled them closer together, their bodies shaping a miss-happen waltz. Alex took the lead, twirling her round and round, swaying with her from side to side in imperfect but perfect synchronization.

And for a few moments, that's exactly what they did; dance. There was nothing formal or precise about what they were doing, just their feet moving to the music and their minds wandering with it.

Alex's dancing became a little uncoordinated, his funny faces and spastic hand gestures completely out of synch with Chopin. Elsa threw her head back and laughed, for the first time in a while feeling care-free and without trouble. It was as if the world did not exist, that nothing beyond the sound of their dancing feet and the harmonious tunes of the No.15 prelude mattered.

Elsa could feel herself melting into this moment, allowing herself to completely meld with it. Alex spun her out and pulled her in, this time holding her rather than dancing with her. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, one hand on his forearm and the other lay upon his shoulder.

The prelude entered the middle melody, its dark and tragic persona most unlike the rest of it. To Elsa, Raindrop prelude had always been a tale of the rain and this part, this middle, she likened to the ferocity of a storm and the ominous feelings it brought with it.

The song began to decrescendo, the tune beginning to hum out until finally it stopped; the vinyl skipped along to the next track.

"I didn't know you liked that song?" Elsa asked Alex, her voice muffled against his neck. She pulled away and smiled, looking at him quizzically.

"I'm a man of the world, Elsa," was all he offered, grinning from ear to ear. He rested the side of his face against hers, running his hand gently along her back.

"Are you ok?" he asked in an even voice.

"Yeah," she breathed, and though he could not see her smile, she was sure he could hear it.

"Are you happy?"

"I think so," shrugged Elsa.

He paused a beat, his running hand now stilling.

"Do_ I_ make you happy?"

His words come tentatively, halted and stilted as though they were afraid of the response. And for the most part, Elsa felt the same; stilted. It was a strange question really, to ask if one gained one's happiness simply from the presence of another.

Did he? Did he make her happy?

Is that what it was called?

Elsa wasn't sure. When she was with Alex, it was a plethora of emotions that she felt; it could not be boiled down to one. She felt anger and confusion, joy and exhilaration, courage and perseverance. The more she thought about it, the more Elsa realised that when she was around Alex, she felt as though she could do anything.

That after all these months, after these months of courtship, she finally felt at peace.

She could be calm around him, let go of herself and just _be_.

But was that happiness?

"Yes," she said finally.

He pulled away from her and held her at arm's length. She was glad to see his expression lighten, his eyes instantly picking up. He looked as if a fire had been lit in his heart, and its warm fingers had reached his eyes.

Gently, Elsa prised herself out of his grip and seated herself on the edge of her bed, her beau standing over her at her knees.

"And me?" she asked shyly, averting his eyes, "Do I-do I make you happy?"

Elsa did not look to see his response, feeling rather embarrassed that she had asked him in the first place. In fact she had not realised Alex had leaned down, with one hand placed on either side of her.

She had not realised until the tip of his nose was nuzzling against her own.

"More than you can imagine," he whispered.

She smiled to herself, taking a moment to muster the courage to look into his pretty blue eyes. They sparkled brilliantly, their hue even more beautiful in such close proximity. They were only five words and really, had quite a universal meaning when used in a variety of context. But to her and in this moment in time, Elsa was the happiest girl on the planet.

And therein lay the answer Elsa had been pondering; _yes_.

Without any vernal indication, Alex moved down and planted his lips against hers. She closed her eyes, wondering how on earth they had managed this moment, in the midst of all this chaos and volatility. It lasted a moment, much like their first kiss, but unlike this was a marked improvement on its predecessor.

Pulling away from their kiss, Alex placed his forehead against Elsa's. She was tempted to look into his mind, to see what exactly he was thinking. However, like Charles had promised Raven, Elsa had assured Alex she would never do such a thing.

"I think…I sort of…I love you," Alex blurted, suddenly releasing her. He stumbled back a few steps, laughing nervously as he ran his hand through his hair.

Elsa stared back, her eyes wide but necessarily in fear or dismay.

_What?_

She had been rendered speechless, though she should have expected it; Alex wasn't one to give much warning when it came to these sorts of things. She had known of his affection for her, but…but love?

She wondered what she had to say now; did she have to return it?

_What do I do?_

Alex began moving to the door with quick and stumbled pace, with Elsa still seated and very much dumbfounded on her bed. He was halfway through when he noticed Elsa's fish-like expression and stopped where he stood.

Elsa laughed nervously, her giggle more of a question than a sound.

"You don't...have to say anything," he chuckled, holding up his hands, "Just…food for thought,"

And with such simplicity and such a calmness of deliverance, Alex left.

* * *

><p>His mouth felt incredibly dry, his palms slick with sweat and wrought with tension. He licked his lips once, feeling the dry skin crackle appreciatively under the wetness of his tongue, as if welcoming the rare bout of hydration.<p>

He wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but here. He wanted to rip off his bow-tie, wrench off the penguin-tail jacket and sprint off into the sunset. He wanted to run as fast as he could, over the hills and through the wetlands, the moors and swamps he had once roamed with her.

Oh, how he'd give _anything_ to go back! To go back to the way things were!

But no. Even as he thought the words, even as he prayed for salvation, a deux ex machina of sorts, the sweet melody of Johann Pachelbel's Canon flitted into his ears.

No. There was no escaping this.

He watched as Cynthia Nixon slowly and agonizingly advanced towards him, dirty blonde hair piled into an elegant bun atop her pointy and sharp edged face, her tiny chest pushed and contorted into the white chiffon bodice that spilled into the ivory pool of silks and satins that was the skirt of her gown.

Though he loathed admitting to himself, she did look beautiful. Radiant and glowing, as did every bride on her wedding day.

She was clutching her father's arm with one bony hand and her bouquet with the other, smiling politely at her guests. She looked very dignified, very formal and composed, careful not to appear too giggly and childish. But Warren knew that deep down she probably felt like dancing for joy and quite honestly, she should be congratulated for her equanimity.

Even as her father handed her over, even as she stood before him, Warren Worthington could not help but feel sorry for his wife-to-be.

He could never love this woman, not for all her beauty and intelligence. How could he? How could he possibly _think _about another, let alone marry, when his heart and soul belonged to someone else entirely?

It was treachery, deceit and manipulation of the worst kind Warren had decided. Though he had tried his best to remove himself, his father's domineering stance had cowered him into submission. Lewis had made a point not to inform the Nixon's about Warren's 'dirty secret', preferring to hide that particular skeleton in a heavily secured closet in order to start afresh.

And for the most part, Warren had gone along with it. He had been too tired, too finished with it all to care for anyone's feelings but his own. There had been moments in time in which Warren had considered revealing everything to Cynthia, to inform her of the identity of the 'girl in all the photos' and to make sure she understood the hollowness of their relationship. But even the most loyal and sympathetic of his servants had advised against it, knowing too well the damage a moment of emotional outpouring could do to the Worthington name. And when it came down to it, Warren had not had the heart to hurt Cynthia so. To watch her bright blue eyes dim with heart wrenching epiphany, to watch them lose their spark at the sound of his words.

So here he stood, poised in his wedding suit and facing a woman he did not and could not love. Here he was ready and poised to utter words of commitment and faith that had no value to him, but meant the world to poor Cynthia Hyacinth Nixon.

For a moment, he looked to Father Brennan, the only body of separation between he and Cynthia for the next few minutes. Warren had known Father Brennan his whole life, as had Elsa and in fact, both children had been christened by him. Though neither was in fact religious, it was an ancient tradition of their home village and no one could have imagined life to have begun in Banbury any other way.

For many years, Father Brennan had smiled longingly at the thought of the Worthingtons and Mullers joining in such a sacred and honored way. He had told them dreams he had once had, in which he say himself christening their children and their children after that.

When Father Brennan had agreed to speaking at their wedding, Warren had felt a tad bit disappointment. It was a betrayal of sorts.

But God worked in mysterious ways, Father Brennan had said, and though he did not feel warmth to this particular union, he had a duty to perform nonetheless.

Father Brennan bowed his head slightly, opened his Bible and begun the ceremony in his clear strong voice.

"Dearly beloved we are gathered here today…"

Warren could already feel the words slipping away from, his world spinning and spinning away from him. He felt desperately small, a mere blimp in the big bad world. He could feel his breath quicken, his heart beating at a million miles per hour.

In fact, he only just managed to say the right words when it was needed.

"Now, Mr. Worthington, if you could repeat after me," said the Father Brennan. Brennan placed a single band, single diamond encrusted ring into his hand and a gold band into Cynthia's. He subtly guided Warren's hand to Cynthia's; Warren paused at the tip of her wedding finger.

Brennan offered Cynthia a polite smile before turning to Warren. And though he could not be sure, Warren thought he saw a hint of sympathy in Father Brennan's kind face.

"I,Warren Worthington, taken this woman, Cynthia Nixon," he dictated, his voice sweet and strong.

"I,Warren Worthington, taken this woman, Cynthia Nixon," Warren tried his best to seem calm, but the fear within was mounting.

There was no going back.

"To be my lawfully wedded wife,"

"…wedded wife," Warren knew he was saying these words, but beyond that he felt nothing.

"Sickness and in health,"

"Sickness…" he was muttering now, barely able to hear his own lies let alone Father Brennan.

The standard vows were over, and now in tradition of Worthington weddings, Warren was to declare a set of his own vows.

He had never written in his own, although when Elsa had still been around, he had tried.

These particular vows he had found in the Jewish Book of Ruth and though he was aware of the confliction of religion, he felt that these vows had so much weight and significance.

These words had always been meant for Elsa, no one else but her. But she was not here and she would never be. So Warren did the best he could and though the action had been entirely involuntary, he imagined that it was no longer Cynthia that was standing before him, but his one and only love.

Elsa looked beautiful in her wedding gown.

Warren beamed, taking Elsa's hand and sliding the ring down as he professed his love for her.

"Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you. For where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried. May the Lord do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me,"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, hello! I know I haven't updated in a while, but rest assured I have good reason; I had incredibly important exam today and really, I dropped everything these past 2 months to prepare for it! And I finished it today! Pray that I did well! <strong>

**Anyway, hope this was up to your standards. I actually wrote some of this listening to the Raindrop Prelude (if you haven't heard it, I strongly suggest you look it up on youtube) The wedding vows I got off the internet; I believe they are Jewish. I hope I haven't encroached onto anyone's cultural or religious beliefs and if I am, I'm really sorry. But they really fitted!**

**Thank you so much to ZabuzasGirl, S-Dawg 101 (as always) SkysFireLady15 (once again, as always) and the forever reviewing, always lovely LizziePixie-Aiko! **


	21. Purpose

Chapter 21

-Purpose-

The sweet mix of spice and cinnamon simmered quietly on the surface of the little chicken, the cooking skin puckering and hissing from the immense heat of the gas stove below it as if it were its own entity. She picked up a meat poker and with one swift move, punctured the flesh to the bone.

She leant in and allowed a few wafts of the meal to enter her nose, allowing herself to become lost in the aromatic fumes.

Chicken had never quite been a favoured taste of Marie's; she preferred the succulence of turkey, or perhaps a duck. However, pregnancy had done strange things to her, and this was perhaps one of them. She found herself craving the most strangest of things, with her preference for them as fickle as the desire that had manifested them.

Therefore, on a whim Marie had entered the kitchen and had begun to cook the pre-plucked bird. She had been safely assured that she would not be disturbed by Tobias for he had locked himself in his study, engrossed no doubt in some voluminous text.

He had been a little overbearing as of late, insisting that Marie confine herself to the comforts of the sofa or the outdoor setting, whilst he took up the household duties and attended to her every need. It was wonderful, she supposed, having a university professor for a husband. New York University had taken a short break, and even if they hadn't taken such a break, the time-table of professor was far more flexible than that of, say, a carpenter.

Marie knew of friends whose husbands were hardly at home, working hard throughout the day and so knackered come the evening, could hardly stand let alone bask in the glow of this miracle.

For that she was thankful, to have a husband so devoted to his family. Marie knew that Tobias would rather stab himself than to think that he had failed his family. It was such a thinking that had driven him to such lengths to save and protect Elsa, to ensure her life when the rest had been cut so horrifically short.

Marie looked down and patted her belly, feeling the smooth round curve. She could do nothing but sigh in relief; the conception had been a long time coming, more so a hard won victory for the both of them.

Marie could not explain it, the love she felt for a being she hadn't even met. Her only visual was the ultrasonic picture she had, and the rest was relatively to her imagination. She was not usually a superstitious woman, nor was she inclined to religion of any denomination, but she liked to think that this child was perhaps a reincarnation of Elsa's family. A culmination of all of them, or perhaps just one; it did not matter.

She never could shake the eerie coincidence of the deaths of the Mullers in England, and the conception of her child. What she could also not shake, was the development of her child. It had only been about four and a half months, give or take a few days, and yet her child's spirit was extraordinary.

Her gynaecologist had been astounded, in all truth, at the growth of him. He had even asked Marie and Tobias if they had lied about the date of conception, for the child's expansion was beyond what he had seen.

Despite being medically premature, the child had the maturity of an eight-month foetus.

It was their combined genetics, Marie liked to think; the mutual strength of two sturdy parents.

She had been so engrossed in her thoughts, so far off in her mind, Marie had noticed that the chicken had started to burn. It's golden skin had blackened, fine wafts of smoke emanating from the tortured body.

Panicking, Marie hastily turned off the gas and set about flapping away the incriminating smoke. She had proceeded her task without Tobias' permission and whilst the aromatic smells would have alerted him, at least then she could have coaxed him with a cooked meal.

This was sure to earn her a hands-on-hips.

In fact, she had been so taken by her own thoughts, Marie had noticed the heavy pattering of Tobias' footsteps.

"Marie?"

Marie turned slowly on her heel, clutching an incriminating blackened tea towel in her left hand. By all means, Marie was right, for there Tobias was standing with his hands on his hips and an ugly scowl on his face.

"Marie, what are-?" He asked, squinting his eyes, "What are you doing?"

Marie had to admit that Tobias did look relatively thinner, a debatable notion he had been trying so vehemently to prove to her. He had been working hard, Tobias. Scared that his weight would hinder the years he would have left to spend with his wife and future son, concerned that his body would prematurely combust.

But she supposed pointing this out would not save her a scolding.

Nevertheless, feeling empowered, she threw back her shoulders and eyed her husband defiantly.

"Making dinner, what does it look like?" she snipped, raising a brow.

"Making it, or burning it?"

Marie scoffed. "I _wanted_ it that way. Felt like charred chicken-"

"How many times have I told you?" interjected Tobias, advancing towards her, "I'll not have you up and about the house for prolonged periods of time,"

Without allowing a moment's protest, Tobias gently clutched Marie by the waist and steered her out of the kitchen.

"Oh, Tobias!"

"Now, now don't argue with me,"

"Tobias, release me!" shrieked Marie, as he plopped her in the nearest dining seat.

"Darling, you're pregnant. You need to be careful," He cooed, looking down at her as if she were a child.

"Careful of what?" laughing Marie, "Roasting a whole chicken?"

"Yes,"

"But Tobias…"

"No buts," he said, shaking his head, "Stay,"

He headed back into the kitchen, scuttling about as he pulled various pots and pans out of cupboards.

"Tobias..." Marie began, tilting her head.

"You like saying my name don't you?" he smiled, slipping on one of her frilled aprons. Marie could not help but giggle; he looked so ridiculous.

"I'll cook. I told you I would," he said, puffing out his chest as if he were Superman on a mission.

"And you sure did," laughed Marie, her hand resting on her belly, "But I don't think the Healthy and Safety Department would have considered your meal entirely edible..."

Tobias stopped an exasperated look on his face as he raised a finger as if to make a notion.

"Meatloaf, is a _very_ complicated meal," He stated.

Meatloaf was perhaps the most basic and deceiving name for the concoction Tobias had managed to come up with the previous week. What it really had been, was a mix of battered meats, pepper and salt, misplaced spices and whole cloves of garlic that been placed for 'added flavour'. Evidently, Tobias had watched far too many cooking programmes on the television, and thus, had considered him a master of the trade before even attempting it.

'It's hypothetical' he had said, 'Anyone with two hands can do it.'

But nonetheless, Tobias insisted and whilst he had the serious potential to commit manslaughter with his 'skills', Marie did not have the heart to put him down.

So she watched him from afar, hustling far too much for what seemed to be a simple omelette for two. It was incredibly heartening, seeing him so enthusiastic and determined, to see him in such an unfamiliar yet welcome light.

"Look at you," she smiled, watched as the bow of the apron flew about behind him, "Never thought I'd ever see you like this,"

"It's a strange world, m'dear," laughed Tobias, spreading his hand to the side and in the process, flicking bits of raw egg onto the fridge from the spatula he was clutching.

She looked to the side, and observed the various photographs upon the mantel of their fireplace. It was adorned with pictures of family, both Tobias' and her own. A battered and white spot flecked photograph of her parents sat proudly beside of a picture of baby Elsa, that too shouldering a shot of two, maybe three, year old Klaus. The cherub like child was clad in a pair of miniature trousers and suspenders, giggling voraciously at something out of the shot.

Marie had not been heavily acquainted with Klaus, but it did not take much to have noticed the thinly disguised sadness in his eyes, that deep loss of confidence following the manifestation of his mutation. It had always struck her, that stark difference between that brooding young man and the careless toddler in the photograph.

Her eyes wandered a little, finally resting on her wedding photograph. Marie had never been much for latest trends, opting for masculine work clothes that often come under scrutiny by her overly feminine friends. However, she had been liberal with her wedding dress, a true reflection of the 1950's.

"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked quietly, her eyes still trained on the photograph.

"No," Tobias called sarcastically from the kitchen.

"Felt like someone had bashed me over the head," Marie continued, her voice a little dreamy in tone, "You were, the most handsome man I had ever met."

"_Were_?"

"The first time we met, was when Professor…" she said, thinking hard as she tried to remember the name, "Professor O'Brien, I think, introduced us,"

"Actually, it wasn't."

Tobias came out of the kitchen, apron still on and a towel wrapped around his hands. He wiped them clean before folding the dirtied towel and placing it neatly on the bench top. He sighed and leaned back, running his hand over his chin thoughtfully.

"The first time we met was on the third day of the academic year, 1937," he said, smiling at the memory, "I remember you used to drive that ruddy old Morris Minor,"

He looked to her. "Do you remember?"

"Of course," she smiled, thinking back on that aged beauty, still might have been a mighty specimen if been crashed into a fence by her brother Luka.

"I can remember getting out of my own vehicle, and when I noticed yours, all I could think about was what old bat was going to step out of it," he laughed, "And, yet there you were. Blonde hair knotted in that bun thing women used to do back then, big blue eyes and the tiniest, the _tiniest _nose. You had this, this thin little pink shirt on, a maroon skirt, if my memory serves me well. No stockings, no jacket, just that. Nothing frilly, nothing special like the others, nothing to say you cared for those sort of things. But I remember thinking, 'Gosh, she must be freezing.'"

Marie let out a tiny breath, watching with almost teary eyes as her husband reminisced. He seemed to have withdrawn into himself, talking to himself as much as her.

"You, you asked me 'which way to the science block?' But you kept looking at your feet, twirling your hair with your little fingers. The quietest voice, I could-I could hardly hear you," he said, absently twirling the curls of his own hair. He backed off the bench top, and walked to her. He kneeled before her and clutched her cheek in his hand, looking her right in the eye.

"And all time, I could not help but wonder why such a beautiful, such a perfect example of God's creation would ever take the time out to speak to me,"

Marie smiled, taking his hand into his own. She gently pulled on his hair and kissed him lightly.

"Well she did, and she's never looked back," she said, kissing him once more.

Smiling, Tobias rested his head upon her lap, Marie taking to stroking his thick hair with her fingers. She closed her eyes, realising that she had never felt sure of her place in the world until this very moment.

Everything was coming together as it were, running smooth for everyone. She and Tobias were expecting a child, Elsa too seemed to have found love again.

That was a bonus, it truly was. To think that even after such trauma, the young girl had not shut herself away from life and all its offerings. It was-

Marie stopped, her eyes fluttering open. She placed her hand on her belly.

"Ooh,"

"What?" asked Tobias, snapping his head back up.

Marie stuttered, her mind racing. "Oh, I..I…"

There! There it was.

"Oh my Lord, oh my-!" cried Marie, "Tobias, he's kicking, he's kicking!"

"What?" laughed Tobias, almost falling backwards.

"Quick, quick, quick, quick! Put your hand…"

"I…"

He felt, the tiny ripple against hand. The ripple of that child's tiny foot against his sturdy hands.

"Do you feel it?" Marie asked quietly, tears seeping out her eyes.

"Oh my God," sighed Tobias, his own eyes wetting as well.

He looked to his wife, the two unable to hide their joy. They laughed hysterically, clutching each other with as much love and as much strength as they could muster. It was beautiful, the miracle of life. The ability to express the love between two people by such a striking and ethereal means.

Right now, Tobias felt like the luckiest man in the world, felt like he could take on anything. Nothing could stop him.

They settled for a moment, however the chance to pick up the excitement again, was quelled by the rapping at the door.

Quiet, polite knocks, but knocks nonetheless.

"Who could that be, at this hour?" Tobias frowned, looking to the clock. It read nine thirty in the evening, and whilst this was not incredibly late, the time to receive any pre-warned guests was well over.

A salesman, perhaps? At this hour, though? A desperate salesman, maybe?

"One second," Tobias told Marie, his wife nodding as he placed a swift kiss in her hair.

Tobias was still smiling, careful to wipe the tears though. He straightened his shirt and quickly ran his hand over his tousled hair. Even if this was a relatively unprecedented guest, Tobias did not want to appear sloppy.

He was still smiling, even as he opened the door and the biting outside wind slapped him harshly across the face. Still smiling even as he observed the back of his guest; still smiling even as he watched the burnt char of the stranger's cigarette fall to the ground with a tap of their finger.

That left him, however, a brick falling through him as the man turned his immense back. Tobias could feel his heart sinking, his knees quietly knocking in fear. His mouth turned dry, but he did his best to remain calm, but even he could not shake the dread that shot through him as the stranger spoke;

"Tobias, my old friend,"

His blonde hair was unmistakeable, the strength of his heavy jaw, nor the glittering grey eyes that looked out from underneath his embossed brow. A smile so cruel, yet equally charming, one Tobias had seen so many times before.

"Lewis Worthington,"

* * *

><p>He felt terrible, his stomach sinking. He had known from the beginning, the chances they had and that the odds were to be unforgiving and certainly not in their favour. Things hadn't been going well for them as of late, hope fading with every loss. Nevertheless, he had remained determined and unmoving in his stance, resolute to come out victorious.<p>

But there were only seconds left in the game, mere fractions of a moment in time and despite his prayers, defeat was imminent.

A flash of burgundy curls swished past him, long lean limbs following.

"Yeah! That's right, attaboy!" cried Sean Cassidy, his nose inches from the rotund, television screen.

"Oh, crap," Alex heard Hank mutter, the bespectacled boy shaking his head as he rubbed his eyes.

Alex watched in horror as the Redskins' quarterback sped down the vast grey field, clutching the dark football with fierce purpose. He seemed like a bullet, dodging every obstacle in his way and barging through those who would not allow him passage. He had a single and solid cause, and it seemed nothing would hinder him.

Alex slowly stood up, his jaw clenching.

"Shit, shit," Alex muttered, his voice slowly building to a crescendo both primal and primitive in tone, "No, no, no, no, _no_!"

There was a roar within the television, coupled and matched only by Sean's own triumphant cries.

Alex and Hank threw their heads back in dismay, lamenting in disbelief as the quarterback touched down, and by a mere point, grabbed the game.

"YEAH!"

Sean's howls was deafening, the red-haired boy laughing and spluttering, shrieking an ululated war-cry as he jumped up onto the sofa. He fist-pumped the air several times, shouting and shrieking all the while.

"Man! What-?" Alex was lost for words, still standing motionless in front of the television.

"That was just…" Hank seemed equally dumbfounded, although he himself was seated.

Still standing upon the couch, Sean pointed a finger each at Hank and Alex, his voice escaping him as if he were singing.

He wiggled his hips.

"Who are the mega-dickhead losers who now owe me forty dollars?" he asked, placing a hand against his ear, "YOU TWO!"

Hank and Alex scoffed and catcalled, the latter plopping himself back down.

Sean had proceeded to perform a little victory dance, holding his arms close to him as he slowly spun in an abstract circular motion.

"Go Sean, go Sean, go round and round, go Sean…"

"That's just not right," muttered Hank, shaking his head at Sean's spectacle.

Alex could not agree more. Sean's performance, on any other given day, would have been rather amusing. It would have been something to laugh at, something to ridicule the outlandish boy for. However, given the context, Banshee's victory boogie was more akin to rubbing salt into a wound.

It was the finals game, Alex's lifelong team pitted against an understated, but formidable enemy. Every game, from the moment his first word had left his little mouth, save the years he'd spent bouncing around the orphanage, Alex had followed the Browns.

There was not a moment in his early life, in which 'football' had been a part of his daily conversation. Times had changed of course, and life had ordered a back-seating of such trivial matters; his parents' deaths, those dire years in the cramped orphanage, and the series of both joyous and tragic events that ultimately led to Lacey's death, his incarceration and finally his induction into this band of mutants.

To Elsa.

Alex was not a superstitious young man, God was not someone he was particularly invested in though it would taste a lie to say he had not turned to the Big Man in his darkest moments. He did not like to dwell on stars, pre written fortunes, destinies; that entire Bohemian crap. But for once, he could not help but feel something more. Something deep within him that stirred so magnanimously, he did not dare challenge it.

Purpose.

That feeling that this hurdle, this prospect of both the creation and the destruction of a nuclear wipe-out of man-kind, was merely the beginning of something far more greater and monumental than any of them.

But for now, as he watched Raven enter the lounge followed swiftly by his dark haired Elsa, Alex liked to think that all that mattered was the present. This little bubble he and his friends lived in. At least for another few months.

He gave Elsa a casual wink as she sat down, the girl returning the action with such a new found confidence that it took Alex aback.

"What's going on?" asked Elsa, sounding a little unsure as Sean's dancing escalated.

"Browns just lost out to the Redskins," announced Hank glumly, his utterance exemplified by a high-pitched howl from Sean.

"Oh, man," groaned Raven, slumping back in her seat.

Elsa squinted her eyes at her friends, a little confused.

"I'm not sure I follow," she said.

"Football," offered Hank hastily.

Ah, American Football. A game Elsa neither understood for its objectives nor the sentimental values it held to the citizens of this nation.

Sean puffed his chest out, sighing contently; it seemed all his energy had left him. He ceased his ridiculous behaviour, settling himself smugly between Hank and Alex.

"Haven't you heard of them?" he asked, "The Redskins or the Browns?"

"No, of course not," said Elsa, shaking her head, "I don't follow your…_your_ football,"

Gridiron was never something Elsa had particularly followed, more so because her passion of choice, like any true English man or woman, had been and always will be English football. It was the proper football in her eyes, in which contact with the ball was actually made with the foot rather than clutching it to one's chest and passing it around like a hot potato. If one wanted to do that, rugby seemed a far more sound choice.

"What do you mean, '_your football'_?" sneered Alex, leaning forward in his seat.

Elsa smiled and shook her head. She supposed one of the downsides of having an American mutant boyfriend that despite their common ground, there were the obvious culture clashes.

"Meaning, I'm English and I follow the only real football there is,"

"Soccer?"

"Yes,"

"That is not a game," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Excuse me?" Elsa smiled. This was, of course, all play. Nothing serious. But she could already feel her patriotic fire igniting within her. It was not a matter of national security of course, but to insult the beautiful game?

"I mean, all you do is kick around a ball," smirked Alex, his blonde hair falling into his mischievous blue eyes, "We Americans, we're real sportsmen. Real grunt."

"Yeah, real men who play contact," agreed Hank, though it was clear he meant his words in a metaphoric and collective sense, rather than a literal definition for himself personally.

"Real men?" leered Elsa.

"Yeah,"

"I bet your '_real men'_ could never bend a ball like George Best."

"We so could!" exclaimed Sean. He motioned between himself, Hank and Alex, "_We_ so could,"

Hank seemed a little uncomfortable by these words, and Elsa couldn't help but smile knowingly. Sean had not made a clear admission, but the meaning was comprehensible. A game between them would be a fair way to settle their dispute and even for neutral fence sitters such as Raven, such an exercise would simply become an outlet of testing her new found physical strength. Hank, on the other hand, was not a sportsman; more a spectator than a player and Elsa knew that any such physical exertion did not tickle his meticulous fancy.

"All right," said Alex suddenly, nodding his head and clasping his hands together, "Let's put that into action then,"

"What?" Raven tilted her head, her long locks cascading down her shoulder and hanging like a curtain.

"We'll have a game. Right now. Outside,"

"Football?" asked Elsa

"Soccer," Alex corrected.

"_Football_,"

"_Socc_-"

Hank held out his hands to his sides, passing swift glances between Elsa and Alex. He appeared thoroughly perturbed.

"Whoa, whoa," he asked, sounding just like he looked, "A game? Like an actual game?"

"Yes, Hank, an _actual_ game," mimicked Sean, shaking his head dismissively at the other boy.

It did not need verbal confirmation, or the shake of hands. It was only a brief moment of silence, but the teens seemed to agree subconsciously, all springing to their feet at the same time. And despite his clear reservations, Hank too joined in the frivolity.

Already in the dull grey tracksuits, the young mutants began to file out of the lounge and out into the open.

"Yes, yeah!" whooped Sean, running full pelt ahead of the others to the back shed, no doubt eager to pull some aged ball from its deep and hoarded interior.

Elsa laughed. There had been a few moments in which she wondered whether she would ever find herself playing games again, let alone her beloved football. The situation she found herself in called for grown up maturity and responsibility; sweet childhood and all its simplicity had to be left behind, taken over by the duties of adult hood.

Elsa glanced over her shoulder and noticed Hank trailing behind.

"Come on, Hank," she smiled, slowing herself down so now she was at his pace, "Don't you like-?"

"I do," Hank interjected, "But I've never been much of a physical being, if you understand. Sit me in the stands with a corndog and a scarf and I'll scream as loud as the next person. But _playing_..."

"This isn't the primary school playground," reassured Elsa, rubbing his arm, "No one's going to judge you. It's all a bit of fun, innit?"

Hank looked to her, an eyebrow raised as his lip curled.

"Forgive me," laughed Elsa, "Street colloquialism has a way of finding itself into my speech,"

She pulled him forward, tugging on his sleeve as they spilled out onto the front lawn, although 'lawn' was rather an understatement to say the least.

"Come on,"

Alex kicked the ball high into the air and caught it neatly in his arms. He booted the ball to Sean, who stopped the bag of air with his foot with as much grace as Best himself.

The red headed joker grinned a wicked grin and pointed a long finger right at Elsa, his hand shaped into a gun. "You are going _down,_ English woman!"

* * *

><p>Tobias watched Lewis like a falcon, his eyes flickering at every movement, his gaze unwavering. Every twitch, every flicker of muscle and every breath Tobias kept a weather eye. Despite his passive appearance and his uncanny ability to turn to stone, Tobias knew Lewis could move with surprising speed when he felt like it.<p>

It simply would not do to assume innocence. Worthington was unpredictable, by every definition of the word, and Tobias knew all too well the consequences of allowing oneself to drop one's guard around such a man.

Lewis sat slumped in his seat, his hands lying lifelessly on either armrest, his blue eyes wandering around his surroundings.

Tobias observed Lewis with keen interest, a natural reaction to anyone who had been absent from the every day for a long time.

Lewis' once immaculate golden hair had lost its lustre a little, slight grey hairs making an appearance at the roots. There were crow's feet nestling at the corners of his eyes, long lines at the sides of his mouth where his smile would leave its trace, and sitting markedly against his alabaster skin dark pools around the bottoms of his sockets. Despite the hard trials of life set against his skin, Lewis' handsome disposition still twinkled with that same frightening quality that had been with him from the moment he had been able to form his first words.

It made Tobias feel a little nostalgic, bringing him back to a place that seemed so long ago and other-worldly. Lewis was a much of his past, as he in his. Nothing Tobias could do would ever change that, nor could Lewis regardless of his money and his privilege.

But Tobias could not imagine that this was a social call, and given the circumstance, it seemed next to impossible. And even if it was, Tobias wasn't sure how long he could keep up the pleasantries.

Tobias had not spoken to Lewis for a number of years now and the fact that his visit followed all that had happened this year, he could not help but feel anxious.

There was something not right about this, something heady and sinister lurking in the shadows. It made Tobias feel uneasy; it was Dieter who had played in the shadows, not he. And look where that took him.

Nevertheless, Tobias decided to be as pleasant a host as possible for he knew that no good would come from aggravating Lewis Worthington.

In an attempt to revive the pleasantries, Tobias grabbed two tumblers from his crystal cabinet and poured each a few sloshes of whisky. He poured his own glass significantly less than his counterpart's, although he had a feeling he would be needing far more.

He handed the tumbler over.

"Long time, no see my friend," smiled Lewis, as he lifted his glass in recognition. His eyes twinkled, making Tobias feel all the more uncomfortable.

"Yes," agreed Tobias, taking a seat across from his childhood familiar, "How long as it been?"

The door between the kitchen and the living room clicked open, sliding noisily the length of its rail as Marie pushed it along.

"Too long to count, unfortunately," chuckled Lewis.

Tobias watched as Lewis' eyes left the rims of his tumbler, following Marie's figure as she sat herself upon the armrest of Tobias' seat. He could see him lingering on her swollen belly.

Marie had only met Lewis once, at their wedding, and even that had been rather fleeting. Even then, she did not care for him. But now more than ever, perhaps even more than Tobias himself, she harboured a deep resentment for the man who had destroyed their family.

But much to Tobias' surprise, Marie managed to paste a smile genuine in appearance and a tone as sweet as honey.

"What are you doing in the United States?" she asked, pulling at her sleeve absently.

"Business," Lewis returned simply, flashing his pearly white teeth. It was such a sly smile, such a deception on his part. It reminded him of the all the childhood tales he was told about the cunning fox, the way he'd grin so convincingly that his poor charge believed a word he said, and did not realise their vital mistake until it was all too late.

Perhaps it was Tobias' own paranoia, maybe the years of friendship had finetuned his senses, but he could not help but detect an ominous undertone.

"For Worthington Laboratories?"

"I guess you could say that,"

That smile again.

Tobias could feel his mouth drying, his tongue taking on a rubbery texture. This had something to do with Elsa, and though he did not know what it was exactly, Tobias could sense that she was in danger.

He wanted nothing more than to throw Lewis back into the streets, lock up his doors, call the police and alert Elsa of any impending danger.

But there was simply no opportunity to do so, not without raising suspicion from Lewis.

Tobias would simply have to sit it out and see how it would unfold.

A silence of platonic length passed between the trio, the air thick with tension. It was if he and Lewis were a pair of bestial predators, each vigilant to the other. Wandering who would make the first move and who exactly was the quarry and the hunter, when each was sure of their conviction.

At last, it was Marie to break the silence.

"Would you like some tea? Biscuits, maybe?" she asked, standing up as she tenderly clutched her belly, "I don't think whisky is an appropriate drink for a guest."

Tobias wondered if she was planning to slip rat poison or some other illicit substance into their guest's drink. It certainly wasn't beyond her.

"Oh, if that's alright with you," grinned Lewis, placing the glass upon the coffee table.

"Of course,"

She disappeared behind the kitchen door, her shadow playing daintily behind the frosted glass as she closed it.

"I warn you, I won't be staying too long," Lewis called after her. He chuckled dryly at Tobias, he himself returning the gesture, before getting to his feet. He clutched his hands behind his back, circling the living room with detached interest.

"Congratulations," he said, pointing his finger towards the kitchen, "I know you've been waiting a long time,"

"Yes," Tobias stood up himself.

Lewis stopped, tilting his head up at an angle. "I can remember those looks you used to sport, whenever one of Dieter's children was born,"

Tobias could feel the atmosphere changing, the spell breaking.

He did not care to admit it, but for many years Tobias had a felt certain emptiness when his nephews and niece were born. He loved them dearly, from the moment he had held their tiny hands in his own, but he every time he had, he had only been reminded of his own lack of family.

Lewis knew this well, but his words suggested something akin to resentment and even hatred, and that Tobias would not tolerate.

"Excuse me?"scoffed Tobias, tightening his already crossed arms.

"Always felt second best to Dieter, didn't you Toby?" snickered Lewis, "Even when we were kids,"

Tobias' jaw clenched.

"No more than you Lou," shot Tobias, feeling pathetically proud of his little quip.

It was true, both he and Lewis had harbored varying degrees of jealously towards Dieter. However, for Tobias, his love for his brother had always triumphed over his envy. Lewis on the hand, had always found such hurdles difficult to overcome, and as they grew, those hurdles became tremendously intricate.

It was clear Lewis was still feeling the sting of the decisions made in their years as young men, but after such time and the fruits that had been cultivated by life, Tobias found it surprising Lewis' hatred was still very much the beast it had once been.

"Please don't tell me you're still hurting, even after all this time?" scoffed Tobias, his mouth hanging slightly.

Lewis sniffed, swallowing hard as his Adam's apple bobbled in its place.

"I don't think I'll ever stop hurting. I mean, it killed me when she was alive," conceded Lewis, his voice quiet but grave. He turned round, rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand.

For a moment, Tobias saw a hint of grief in those unforgiving blue eyes. A rare notion, but not impossible. Tobias knew more than most the sorrow Lewis harbored, the pain he had felt at the hands of others and for that, he was able to see past that horrid exterior.

But any return to a state of mind that had once exhibited humanity, a return to what once was, became entirely lost as Lewis' hidden smile became as blaring as a hare among foxes.

"But I'll admit, it feels a little better now that she's dead,"

Tobias could feel his anger bubbling, the love for his lost family burning furiously in his veins. He had had every mind to pull out his rifle and shoot Lewis right there and then when the man had arrived. It had been incredibly tempting, Lucifer whispering dark words into his eager ears.

But the thought of murder had left him as quickly as it had come to him. There was nothing to gain in killing Lewis, not yet, and Tobias would not be doing anyone a favour if he had conceded to committing it.

No matter what his mind told him though, his heart continued to pump poison into his blood and his words, consequently, became soaked with the dangerous substance.

"Did you feel good about it then, Lou? Killing Eva? Felt you were redeeming yourself?" he spat.

"Redeem _myself_? I've never needed to," laughed Lewis, shaking his head. Tobias could tell he was trying to keep his fury within, but Lewis had never been a man to exercise self-restraint.

"No, she and Dieter. _They're_ the ones who needed to redeem themselves," he said, "She would have gone along with...it was Dieter who always stood in my way. As he did in yours,"

Tobias did not have the energy to retort, already thoroughly exhausted by Lewis' mere presence. But he nonetheless listened, eager to gain as much information as he could without force.

Absently shaking his head, Lewis strode over to the mantelpiece, his immense figure looming over the fireplace. Tobias watched as Lewis ran his finger over the little world globe set above him, trailing a path across Europe, to Africa down to Australia and right back up to England.

"Little Elsa's still alive, you know," he muttered quietly.

Tobias felt his heart sink. Any hope that Lewis had forgotten about Elsa, or simply concurred that she had somehow been killed in his attack, was lost with those simple words.

It seemed trouble followed that girl wherever she went, and Tobias was determined to keep those wolves at bay.

"I know. She phoned me a week ago," returned Tobias, desperate to keep his voice even.

Lewis spun round, his eyes flashing.

"Really, just phoned?" he sneered.

"Yes,"

Lewis advanced a few steps, so close now that they were almost touching.

"She didn't, drop into the country did she? Bunk with you for a bit?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Don't lie to me, Tobias," Lewis snarled, cutting him off. His eyes flashed, the man looking more and more like the beast as each second passed.

"I'm not," said Tobias, keeping his eyes locked with him, "I never have,"

"I know we were close when we children, I always had your back and you had mine," said Lewis, "But let's be honest; blood's thicker than water,"

"I am _not_ lying to you,"

Those words became Lewis' undoing. He took a few steps back, laughing manically as he shook his head. He looked unhinged, his hair falling out of its careful place. He stuck his hand into his coat pocket, and with lightening speed, whipped out a small handgun.

Tobias' heart skipped a beat, his sight beginning to close in on him. He watched nervously as Lewis waved the thing threateningly in his direction.

"Do you, do you understand how many people I've had to _kill_ to find the truth?" he growled, the gun shaking, "Huh? Do you? Can you even begin to comprehend the body count-?"

The world was beginning to slip away, his grip on the tenuous tendrils of his life leaving him. It did not surprise Tobias that Lewis had killed, the words had no shocking effect on him. His violent tendencies were a part of Lewis' psychopathic nature that was perhaps the only thing that made sense about him.

But what had him on his toes, was that Lewis was the one with the gun and he, Tobias, was without.

"What have you done Lewis?" whispered Tobias.

"Nothing that concerns you," Lewis said, his teeth clenched, "Just tell me, where is Elsa?"

They were not the words Lewis wanted to hear, but Tobias had spent enough of his life conceding to this man.

"I don't know,"

Lewis let out a high pitched yell, holding the gun high up as he kicked over a stool. It fell to the ground with tremendous force, the back leg splintering.

"LIAR!"

The _click!_ of the sliding door returned and Marie reappeared at its entrance. Her eyes were wide with panic, her hands gripping the frame so tightly her knuckles grew red. She switched her gaze from Lewis to Tobias, hastily addressing the situation.

"What is-oh my Lord!" shrieked Marie, noticing the loaded gun, "What are you-?"

She began to advance towards them.

"Stay back!" screeched Lewis, pointing the gun right at Marie, "If you love yourself and your unborn child, then stay back!"

She stopped, her foot in mid-step, her mouth hanging open. She looked to Tobias, her eyes on the verge of tears.

This wasn't happening, it couldn't be.

It wasn't fair.

It simply wasn't fair.

Tobias looked to his wife, sharing her pained expression, but nevertheless shook his head and motioned to her stay where she was.

"Lewis, please," urged Tobias, holding both hands up in surrender, "Let's just calm down, alright? Talk this through,"

Lewis seemed unaffected, already in his own little world no doubt. He did not hear Tobias' words and even if he had, there was no chance he would heed them.

The world was his and only he made the orders.

"Where is she, Tobias?" Lewis repeated, his tone a sinister sing-song, "I know she was here, I know you've housed her!"

"Stop it, Lewis," Marie sobbed, clutching her hand to her chest, "Stop it!"

"Where is she?!" screamed Lewis, now resting the tip of the barrel right against Tobias' forehead.

"Please!"

All Tobias saw was the flicker of Lewis' trigger clutching finger, followed swiftly by a bang that deafened his ears.

Tobias' head spun, his eyes unable to focus. Bile was rising in his throat, his knees knocking. He looked down on himself, desperately searching for the patch of blood where he was sure to have been hit.

He patted himself down over and over again, wondering why he was not catching that sticky feeling between his fingers.

There was nothing, nothing to say his skin had been broken, his shirt torn. Nothing to say any foreign body had entered him.

_Then where on Earth-?_

Tobias fell to his knees.

_No. _

_No!_

His heart began to pump furiously, his breath catching in his throat so much, he was finding it difficult to breathe. His body turned numb and his senses dulled. He was only dimly aware of the bestial wail that left his mouth.

Marie lay lifeless on the floor, her hands throw up around her golden head and her legs twisted from her fall. Her eyes were still open, her mouth slightly ajar. The small hole in her chest steadily seeped with her blood, the fluid slowly soaking her gown, slowly making its way down to the hand that was still rested upon her belly.

Lewis was still looming over Tobias, his gun trembling a little in his hands.

There was a buzz in Tobias' ear, a quiet hum beating furiously in his ears. It was if there was a box around him, a four walled entity that was starting to close in on him, and as it did, the buzz got all the more louder. There was nothing in this little world, nothing but himself and the physicality of his being.

Influence from the outside was only faintly perceived.

"Good work, Tobias," Tobias vaguely heard Lewis say, the words slipping in and out, "Now look what you've done. You've killed your wife-"

His mind had not registered these words, not truly enough to fully comprehend their weight, but somewhere deep in his heart, within the pounding veins and the puffed arteries, they resounded with dangerous reverberation.

They undid him.

Tears streaming down his face, and no longer aware of who or what he was, Tobias let out a painfully distraught and yet equally fearsome howl and charged for Lewis. All of his senses were forgotten, everything human in him cowering in fear of the beast that had taken control.

"You son of a bitch, I'll kill you!"

Tobias tackled Lewis to the ground, the latter taken by surprise. They fell together with an almighty thud, nothing less than expected for the two bear-like men. For a moment, Tobias had the upper hand. He pinned Lewis to the floor with his knees, the other man wriggling, writhing and spitting.

Tobias repeatedly slammed his fist into Lewis' nose, unaware that his own knuckles were beginning to bleed, and sickly enjoying the thud his skin made against Lewis'.

He slammed it again, this time hearing an almighty _crack!_ as Lewis' nose split at the bridge. Blood flowed like the Thames, streaking in long runs and splitting off at the ends like branches.

The victory was only temporarily savoured, however, for in his ecstasy Tobias had left himself unguarded, and allowed Lewis to flip him around.

They rolled on the ground, desperate to attain a firm grip on the other. Cursed words escaped into the air like the wispy smoke of an infantile blaze, and a tangle of legs flew left, right and centre, the sound of thudding flesh against flesh vibrating off the walls.

Lewis finally flipped Tobias to the ground, slamming the man's back so hard into the ground that all the wind were knocked out from within him. Lewis could not be sure, through all Tobias's spitting and yelping, if he had cracked a bone or two. He had heard something, maybe a hairline fracture in the spinal cord, but nothing was certainly.

Lewis could not help but feel something akin to sympathy for this man, watching as Tobias screeched and bit, baring his teeth as if he were an animal. It was amazing, this transition from man to beast, how weak the man was for that woman.

He balled his fist and slammed Tobias in his jaw, shutting him up for a moment. He grabbed his collar, and lifted his neck from the floor.

"I'm giving you one last chance!" Lewis barked, his pointed nose brushing against Tobias', "_Tell me_!"

"Oh, fuck you, Lewis!" snarled Tobias, spitting a bloody glob into Lewis' eye.

"Tell me,"

He wiped it away, flicking the vile concoction into the blood stained carpet.

There was such a pain in Tobias' back, throbbing ruthlessly in the lower half. Every time he, or Lewis moved him, it would flare up in its severity and leave him breathless. It was as if his body had been set on fire, every muscle and every bone crying for mercy.

He looked into the eyes of his attack, the windows to the man he had once called a friend. There was nothing left in his eyes, nothing more than emptiness and stone.

His life flashed before his eyes, a reel of every memory that had embedded itself in his mind. A memory of running barefoot through the moors of Banbury, the smell of the summer breeze and the feel of the cool breeze against his sun-kissed skin. He wanted to go back to that, back to that place in time when nothing was out of balance and when Fate had exercised compassion and clemency upon the lives She overlooked.

"What happened to you?" moaned Tobias, his eyes searching Lewis for that humanity he had once known, "What the _bloody hell_ has happened to you?"

"Nothing new, I'm afraid," whispered Lewis, smirking a little. There was something sad in those words, something inexplicably dreadful.

No, it was not something new. These impulses, these rage fuelled desires were not something any one of them was not accustomed to. But it made Tobias when it was exactly that these tendencies turned from something to laugh at, to something to weep over.

Lewis let go of Tobias' collar, letting the latter fall unceremoniously to the ground. Tobias' eyes were rolling in his end, unable to focus as dark patches began to form in the corners of his eyes. He only barely heard Lewis shuffle away, heard his footsteps patter up the stairs.

He turned his head a little, even that had him screaming in agony. He looked to his dear wife, still slumped on the ground.

He wailed, wailed like he had never before. Not like when his mother had died in Germany, or his father shortly after that. Not when his first child had entered the world stillborn, and not when he had been given the news of his brother's fate in England.

His unborn child, no doubt dying himself, within his dead mother's womb.

This was for all of that; all that he had lost and all that he was losing.

He felt so empty, such a husk of man he once was. His beauty had disappeared, his strength having left him. All those degrees, those Masters and Doctorates; none could save him now.

There was nothing to live for anymore.

"You always were a monster, Lou!" yelled Tobias, rolling onto his side, coughing up blood as he did, "From the moment I met you I knew, I swear I did. There was always something wrong with you, something not right!"

He continued, feeling smaller and smaller by the minute. Perhaps Lewis could not hear him, perhaps he would be ignored. But that did not matter anymore.

"I remember when we were kids, when we killed Jones' dog by accident. Don't think I can't remember what you did to it,"

He closed his eyes, feeling all his wounds more acutely than before. There was perhaps, no unbroken bone left in his body. But it was his heart, this pain he felt in his chest, that he desperately wished to be relieved from.

He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and weakly opened his eyes. He could just make out Lewis' immense figure, the blood dripping from his forehead marring his vision.

The monster seemed alight with maniacal joy, a wicked grin worthy of only the devil himself spread across his face. His hair was severely mused, blood still pouring from his broken nose. His clothes were torn and bloodied, already black from his drying wounds.

But it was the thin sheet of paper, wedged between Lewis' reddened fingers, that caught Tobias' attention.

It was with painful identification that he realised.

"Wh-what's that?"

Tobias knew exactly what it was, cursing himself over and over for having left that in the open.

It was the address of Professor Xavier's Mansion, giving to him by the good man himself in the case of an emergency.

How could he have been so _stupid?_

"What you've failed to give me all this time," said Lewis simply, the light gleaming in his eyes. He pulled out his gun and reloaded it, tracing his fingers tenderly over the barrel as he pointed it at Tobias's forehead.

"What killed your pretty wife, and what killed you,"

Tobias closed his eyes, resting his head against the floor. He knew what was to come, he knew what his life had come to. And his allowed the open arms of oblivion to embrace him, his last prayers went only to his Elsa.

* * *

><p>Elsa ran full pelt down the length of the field, feeling the cool breeze tangle itself in her hair and the harsh sun burning her skin. She flicked round as she watched Sean traverse down the field, dribbling the ball between his feet and all the while, avoiding Raven's offending intrusions.<p>

It was the last few minutes of their game, a rather uneven game in all honesty. Charles had politely declined to join, Erik taking a more gruff approach-'do I look like a mug?'-and so, the match had consisted of only five players in total.

Both Hank and Alex had been assigned goalies, the former in Elsa's team.

Sean had been rather generous and allowed Elsa to have two players rather than one, whilst he took up the sole responsibility for scoring any goals for his two-man squad.

"Oh, come on, you call that skill?" Elsa heard Raven call.

"Better than whatever the hell it is you're doing!" returned Sean, all the while keeping his eyes on the ball.

Elsa waited her turn, waiting for that precise moment in which Sean would become vulnerable and the ball open to her taking. She tensed herself, feeling her calves tensing like the coil in a spring, before running right at her opponent.

With one swift move, she snatched the ball from Sean's unwary feet and dribbled it back down.

"Hey!"

Raven gave a great whoop, a short lived jump in the air, before running side by side with her friend as the two passed the ball between themselves.

All that was left now were Alex, standing ominously at the goals. He hunkered down a little, his arms spread wide as he anticipated Elsa's incoming shot.

She eyed him playfully, resting her foot firmly on the ball.

"You let that ball pass Alex, and you'll find yourself with a severed manhood!" Sean cried from afar.

"Don't think that because you're my girlfriend, that I'm going be soft," grinned Alex, shaking his head.

"Wasn't expecting you to be," shrugged Elsa, as she began to back away. She could remember when she was young, when she used to play football in the schoolyard with the other children. It was such a long time ago, and the more she dwelled on it, the more she couldn't believe how much had changed since then.

She was a few metres back now, and only paused for a beat before charging for the ball. Her foot connected with the ball in a clean swing of her leg and without even a moment for Alex to truly come to his senses, the black and white sack of air flew into the net.

"Yes!"

Hank came running down the field, a rather odd notion for the bespectacled boy, as he embraced Elsa and Raven with both of his arms. He lifted them up into the air, not too high up, but nonetheless Elsa was surprised at his hidden strength.

"What did I tell you?"

Sean grabbed the ball grumpily, landing a smart smack against Alex's back before pointing a finger at the offending team.

"_Rematch!_"

The group laughed heartily, the young man muttering vociferously as he proceeded to jab the ball with a sharp stick he had found.

"Elsa!" They all suddenly heard.

The mutants turned around in their spot, their laughter quelled by the effeminate voice.

From what they could see, Moira MacTaggert was standing afar upon the raised ledge of the front lawn, one arm resting on the marble barrier as the other waved in the air.

"Elsa!" she called again.

Elsa gave her winning team a final grin, Alex and Sean each a pathetic pat on the back, before proceeding up the hill.

She had not spoken to Moira often, for the older woman conferred with Charles more than the others. Her initial inhibitions about the agent had since been rendered obsolete; in fact, she now quite liked Moira.

But Moira had taken Elsa alone, to speak with in private as this so suggested. It made Elsa wonder, and at the same time, began to fill her with uneasy dread.

"Moira," she said, as she reached the top, "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while,"

Moira was dressed in her normal gear, her rather masculine jacket and skirt. It amused Elsa, the striking contrast. Such a pretty face set against a rather boring and mannish get up that more often than took away from her beauty.

But it was clear that she was not here to speak of about fashion, or the lack of it. Moira was shifting uneasily on her feet, her eyes darting back and forth.

"No," she smiled, though it seemed a little strained, "I'm fine, yourself?"

"Good," returned Elsa.

"What do you suppose they're talking about?" asked Raven, nudging Hank.

They watched Elsa and Moira's figures in the distance, the glare from the sun at times making it a little difficult to see. From what Raven could tell, Moira appeared rather uneasy.

"Too bad none of us mutated supersonic hearing or something," said Alex, pushing his way to the front. It was unusual, for Moira to pluck one of them unexpectedly and speak with them in private. In fact, it hardly happened at all.

They watched, all with worried expressions, as Elsa's head began to shake. She held out her hands in front of her, swinging them in an 'X' motion as they heard her faint cries.

"No!" they managed to catch, "No!"

Elsa buckled at her knees, almost falling right onto her face if Moira had not caught her. The girl disentangled herself from Moira's arms, the latter looking rather distressed as the former.

They stared with confusion as Elsa began to run back into the Mansion, tripping over feet repeatedly as Moira desperately called after her.

"What was all that about?" asked Sean urgently, looking to his comrades as if they could provide an answer.

Alex felt horrid, a weight in his stomach so heavy and so consuming, he wondered if he would be able to move at all.

Something was wrong, so dreadfully wrong.

It struck him, with sick amusement, how quickly their playful game had turned so sour. How quickly the air had changed.

"I'll be back,"

He began to walk towards the Mansion, still figuring what exactly it was he was going to do once he got to her. He slowly moved to a jog before finally breaking into a run. He moved past Moira, the agent seemingly stuck in her spot with a pained expression on her face.

'_Please,'_ he thought frantically, _'Please let it be ok,_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ok, Ja. Very long chapter I know, and believe me I was going to separate it into two parts. But it simply did not flow the way I wanted it to when I tried breaking it in half, so many apologies. Mind you, the last section was a little hasty so if there are words missing or things don't make sense grammatically, or it just doesn't do, please forgive me; I'll fix it later (where have I heard that before?) <strong>

**Also, what is going on in the 'Tobias/Lewis' sections, are taking place the night before the 'Elsa' sections. Does that make sense?**

**Another thing, I know nothing about American football and who scores the goal and what not; I only put quarterback down because it's the only term I know. So if you do know the correct term, please correct me!**

**Come on, my readers, there must be **_**something**_** pissing you off about this story? Something that makes you go, "WHY?!" Or is it all just as hunky-dory as I have been told by lovelies LizziePixie-Aiko and SkysFireLady15? (many thanks as usual) **


	22. Bereavement

**AN: Hiya, relatively short chapter, I know. Much thanks to SkysFireLady (again!), BlueRose22 and fan'of'all'things' for the reviews and to those who alerted/favourite-ed this story in the last couple of weeks. And also, if I don't update again soon...HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY LOVELY READERS!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 22<p>

-Bereavement-

He almost stumbled through the front door, so desperate to catch up with her he had forgotten to watch his footing. He'd called after her, asking her to slow down. But either Elsa had not heard him, or she was ignoring him for she had already disappeared into the Mansion.

Alex paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he rubbed his forehead. He looked back over his shoulder, watching as his friends listened in horror at Moira's words.

They were dead, more likely killed, but nonetheless they were no longer living. Alex had never met Elsa's aunt and uncle, disappointed by his lack of affiliation but had never thought much of it because he had deliberated there would always be a place and time to do so.

Now, that would never happen. He could only imagine what she was feeling right now, no doubt out of her mind with grief. She had just lost part of her family, and it seemed she had lost them all. Alex dreaded approaching her, to comfort her.

Elsa was not one for mushy moments of weakness, but this situation asked for nothing less. Alex didn't have a clue as to what he could say, what he could do to ease the pain. Was there _anything_ he could do?

Alex was afraid what this might do to her, do to her mind and her soul. He could recall an old school friend, Benjamin Crawley, who had lost his mother in a car accident. Alex could remember the prolonged silences that had only been broken by a fresh bout of sobbing, the shivering and the shuddering, and eventually that empty look that had settled in his eyes. Benjamin never was the same after that, never the bubbly young man he had once been.

God knows what had happened to poor Ben since, and it seemed only God would know what was to become of Elsa.

Grief is a dangerous emotion, one capable of both unification and destruction. Erik was the highest example; perhaps he may have turned into a tolerant and rational man like Charles, but his grief had twisted him so much, it was clear that he was hinged by only a few bolts.

Alex sighed, figuring he would deal with that once it came. He began to make off in the direction he had last seen her, but he had been in thought for so long it was difficult to remember exactly which way.

He walked down the first floor corridor, hastily checking each room for lights or signs of movement. He had found nothing and the more he did, the more his worry mounted. He began the second floor, combing it like he did the first. He checked his room, Sean and Raven, even Hank's humble abode. He peeped inside Elsa's room, but nothing.

Alex frowned.

Where could she be?

He began to walk with slumped shoulders, considering going back and asking the others for help until something caught his eye.

The hallway carpet up ahead looked like it had been disturbed, twisted at the edge as if a foot had carelessly run over it. And now that Alex caught up, he could see a hallway table had been knocked over, the vase that had sat atop it shattered on the floor in the million pieces, with its water content steadily seeping and its flowers strewn in every direction. Alex looked up the neighboring door.

Though he was not a frequent visitor, he knew that this was Erik's room. And as he looked inside, he could see the bright yellow light shimmering from the bathroom, a beacon of light in the otherwise shadowy room. The more Alex strained his ear, the more he could the faint pattering of what sound like a running shower.

Alex held himself back for a moment. Elsa was surely in there, but he was afraid as to what he might find. There was a probably possibility that it was not in fact Elsa, but a naked Erik taking a shower and if that were the case, Alex wasn't sure that all the therapy in the world would help.

He swayed on the spot, biting his lip.

After a moment, he steeled himself and quietly proceeded inside. He carefully edged towards the bathroom, the falling droplets of the shower-head growing louder and louder. He paused at the door, before carefully pushing it aside.

Alex sighed quietly.

Elsa was sitting beneath the shower, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. She was still fully clothed, but despite the onslaught of water, her wet clothing did not seem to bother her.

She appeared to be shivering, her head bobbing a little as the wettened tendrils of her dark hair danced maniacally around her forehead.

Pulling of his shoes, Alex slowly strode over to her, opened the shower door and settled himself beside. He was startled by the ice temperature of the water, but the shock had already begun to wear off.

He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he himself began to become drenched in water. She seemed to take little to no notice of him, her body feeling stiff against his. Alex wanted to say something, but before he could, Elsa's croaky voice interrupted him.

"There's blood on my hands-" she muttered, her body shuddering.

Alex raised his brow.

"What?"

"-It's not coming off,"

"Elsa, what are you talking about?" Alex asked, gently tilting up her chin. He looked into her eyes, and already he could see how glazed and glassy they looked.

"It's my fault. It's my fault," she repeated¸ her bottom lip quivering.

"What are you saying? That's-"

Alex almost fell back in shock as Elsa let out a cry, an inhuman shriek that was far more akin to a mother lion mourning the loss of her cubs than an eighteen year old girl.

"I'm an omen. I'm bad luck," Elsa moaned, "Everything I touch, just..."

She looked to Alex with a mad, bereaved expression. "They were fine. They were bloody well happy and now they're nothing but ash. If I...If I had never come here, if I had just died in England, then maybe they'd-"

Alex stopped her, gently shaking his shoulders. He looked down at her with a stern look, feeling as if he were disciplining in a child. But given her current state,it was probably the only method of mediation possible.

"Look at me," he scolded, nonetheless tenderly "None of this is your doing. Whatever this is, whoever it may have been, the blame is not on you. Understand?"

"Alex-"

"I can't believe you can think such things," Alex interrupted, "'Bad luck'? Elsa, you've been nothing but _good_ luck. You can't tell me that your aunt and uncle weren't happy with you? You can't tell me that even for a moment, you didn't manage to fill a void they had been deprived of for so long? Didn't they say they thought you were their rabbit's foot or something? The reason why they managed to conceive-"

Elsa shoved hard against his chest, shaking her head liberally.

"That's nothing more than mystics and-and poppy cock!" she spluttered.

"Fine," Alex sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "Maybe you're right, maybe I don't know what they were thinking."

He had never really planned on telling her, what he was about to say. But this moment felt so intimate and exposed, nothing less was required.

"But I'll tell you something I do know," he said quietly¸"If you had died in England, if I had never met you...I wouldn't be where I am today. You breathed _life_ into me, Elsa. You gave me a reason to get up in the morning. Alright?"

"After Lacey, when I was in that cell, when Darwin died and even my first weeks here, I was in a dark place. Ok? You may not have seen it but I had dark thoughts circling in my head."

"And I changed that? Please Alex, our-our lives aren't the screenings of a poorly written soap opera," she snapped viciously, although it was clear she did not feel so strongly as she opted to look away from Alex.

Alex smiled. "Dismiss the clichès all you want; it's the truth,"

Elsa turned in her spot, sitting on her knees as she placed both hands on Alex's chest.

"But my Aunt and Uncle..." she said as Alex clutched her hands, "Their baby..."

"Are gone, yes. And I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am," said Alex quietly. He pecked her lightly on the cheek. "But you're still here."

"I don't want to be," she muttered.

"Well, I want you to," said Alex, "There are so many here who do,"

Those words seemed to have mollified Elsa, the girl sinking back onto her bottom as she huddled beside Alex. She rested herself against him, allowing him to hold her as if any slack of grip would have her descending down the drain pipe and never to be seen again.

Alex hated this, hated this so much.

Why couldn't they be left alone? Why couldn't they be left to live their lives without fear or dread? Why was it that for every moment of joy, years of heartache would follow?

Alex loved this girl, and to see her being knocked back like this made him all the more protective of her. He wanted to carry her with him, hold her close and deflect all the on-coming pain of life. This was an incredibly heart wrenching moment, something that sealed a sense of realness and substance their relationship. And as the young couple sat in the shower, drenched in water and shivering despite their combined heat, they could forget the world outside if not for a few moments.


	23. The Blood I Crave For These Hands

Chapter 23

-The Blood I Crave For These Hands-

The fire had long passed, its flickering blaze nothing more than the tiny flames of a match withering and desperate to keep alight. Everything it had sought to destroy had been taken, everything the searing hands had touched now gone. Nothing could be salvaged, nothing could be picked up and brushed off, to be marvelled at its unsullied condition. This plot, this space of land that had once held a home, was nothing less than a desolate wasteland. The high storey walls were gone, crumpled and broken no doubt having smothered the contents its had once protected from the outside world. The bright lilac and mulberry bushes once bursting with bright colour and odour, now blacked and charred. Nothing lived here anymore, nothing Elsa had ever come to love.

But there was one occupant that still stood, one figure Elsa had come to familiarise herself with. Death still clung, insidious and devastating as it had always been, just as the smoke had remained to taint the fresh crisp air.

Elsa sighed, fighting the hot tears that stung her eyes. She sniffed, unable to completely comprehend why it was Death followed her so. She wanted to scream, to tilt her head to the sky and demand what it exactly it was she had done wrong. She wanted to ask why? Why not take her, and leave the innocent? Why take them, when it was blatantly clear that it was her soul these people had all died for?

But she didn't. She remained tall and prostate, hands by her side as the wind flapped her loose hair around her face.

Elsa moved forward, wincing at the sounds of the blackened remains crunching beneath her feet. She passed underneath the police tape, ignoring the cries of protests from a few policemen. She moved into what used to be the living room, standing in the same place she had spent so many moments revelling in both her safety and her despair. Now all that was left was ash and debris, pieces of the room left charred and distorted.

She could hear the musical laughter of her aunt, the booming and yet equally soothing voice of her uncle; the crackle of the gramophone and the sweet melody of La Vie En Rose. Tears fell as she closed her eyes, her mind allowing her to relive the sweet perfume of her aunt's pork crackling, and the boil of cream laced with the bean of a vanilla pod.

It was now more than ever, that Elsa realised how much she wanted to hold them again, to feel their skin against her own, their warmth from their hearts emanating into her own.

'_Don't cry, darling. We're not leaving you,' _Marie's voice whispered against her ear.

'_No,'_ agreed Tobias, _'We'll see you again soon.' _

Elsa opened her eyes again, feeling a strange emptiness settle within her. It was a calm, peaceful sensation and Elsa caught herself wishing it would remain with her.

Charles and Erik had accompanied her, both had sat silent as graves on either side of her. Moira had arrived well before, deep in conversation with trench coat wrapped detectives. Elsa had previously expressed her concerns, the possibility of Lewis' involvement, and despite her usually frigid manner, Moira had consented to inciting a federal investigation. Elsa doubted that it would go any far, given that there were far more pressing issues facing the CIA at this point.

She was only a blimp in the turmoil of the world.

She heard foreign feet, but there was no need to see who they belonged to.

"...thinking it might be a homicide," She heard Charles tell Erik, his voice purposely low and hushed. Elsa turned her head slightly to the side, hearing those devastating words but not necessarily understanding them. They seemed to pass through her, breaking her skin and entering but failing to leave a lasting mark.

Breaking off their conversation, Charles stepped tentatively towards Elsa, careful not to press too hard upon the charred ground. He stood beside her, perhaps looking at what she was looking at, but not seeing what she was seeing.

"Elsa? We're required at the morgue," said Charles softly, his hand resting on her arm. "They need you to identify the remain...them," He looked away immediately, the unutterable word just as strange to him as it was to her. Elsa felt his hand slip from her arm and clutch her hand, and she willingly held it.

Elsa swayed a little, frowning as she heard a strange noise beneath her feet. She looked down, moving her feet out of the way as squatted down onto her hunches. A little hesitant, she brushed away blackened dirt and crumbling objects until she finally found it.

Its white exterior had been desecrated significantly, once pearly and pure, now burnt and sullied. It had retained both of its outstretched wings, the tiny olive laurel still in its beak.

It was the turtle dove she had been given by the young boy she had met in her first week in New York, that night she had roamed the foreign streets in act of both rebellion and grief. It had supposed to have keep her safe, at the very least, guard the ones she loved, and yet it burned just as easily as everything else.

"They were burnt to a crisp by the looks of things," sneered Elsa, sitting squatting among the ground and unable to contain her disgust. "Will there be anything left for me to identify?"

Charles gaped at her, for once unable to provide her soothing words of wisdom. His blue eyes flickered, sighing heavily with such a look of despair even Elsa felt her battlements wearing.

"Alright,"

* * *

><p>"That's...That's my uncle."<p>

"Name?"

Elsa felt her throat tightening, a name that had once slipped so easily through her lips, now impossible to push through. "T-Tobias Hienrich Muller,"

She was sitting in a hallway seat, Charles' arm wrapped around her shoulder, Erik looming broodingly over in his usual cloud of gloom, as two Ward Sisters from the New York City Morgue supplied her with endless questions regarding her dead guardians. Two gleaming badges shone into Elsa's eyes, the elegantly cursive name of 'Davies' on one, and the hastily written 'Alamain' on the other. Ward Sister Davies was kindly, a plump woman with rosy cheeks and an even rosier grin. She had offered Elsa a hot drink before anything else, a biscuit or two. She was careful to say everything slowly and tactfully as possible, a rather annoying thing to do in normal circumstances but given what had happened, Elsa had found it quite soothing. Alamain, on the other hand, was a marked contrast from her counterpart; tall and thin with an angled face upon which the skin had been so tightly pulled over. She had a perpetually pointed look on her face, a notion exemplified by her high sharp nose.

Elsa could not fathom why two Ward Sisters were necessary, but given that there two bodies to deal with, Elsa assumed that each had been assigned one.

Elsa closed her eyes for a second, twisting her fingers in her lap. She desperately wanted to be home, snuggled beneath the covers of her bed, shutting the entire world out. She felt incredibly lethargic, as if every limb had become a lead weight.

A little hesitant, she dared to peer into the one-way glass room in which her aunt and uncle were being kept in. She had not been allowed to see the bodies yet, and as the window only allowed the occupants to look out, she hadn't even sneaked a peek.

Elsa looked into Ward Sister Alamain's cold eyes, wondering how exactly a woman such as herself could ever found herself in such an occupation.

"And the woman?" she asked.

"My aunt," said Elsa quietly. She bit her lip, looking to the Ward Sister with tears teetering dangerously at the corners of her eyes. "Marie Muller. I'm sorry, I don't know her mid-"

"That's alright. We'll pull up some records," said the Ward Sister, waving her hand so dismissively, she almost seemed bored.

Elsa tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I don't know the baby's name either. They never got to name him..." Elsa trailed off, pulling her coat tighter around herself as Charles gave her a tight squeeze.

From the moment she had arrived, though she had managed to consider the deaths of her aunt and uncle, what she had not been able to accept was the loss of the little one. A child, not even so as it had not even seen the light of day, taken so cruelly and so inhumanely. Elsa wondered what it must have been like, to a one moment felt safe and secure within his mother's belly, the next smouldered and blistered as her body had burned.

What had Lewis been thinking, when he had killed Marie? Had he stopped for a moment? Had he realised that her swollen belly had meant she has harbouring two lives instead of one? Even when he set the house on fire, had he felt _anything_?

There was of course, no confirmation that Lewis had had anything to do with it, but Elsa could not fathom a more likely suspect. She had seen not a couple of months before, and given his intelligence, she just knew.

It took a moment to realise that the Ward Sisters had not said anything, had remained silent since Elsa had omitted her lack of knowledge about the baby. Charles, Elsa and Erik simultaneously looked to the Ward Sisters, and Elsa was taken back by the rather pained expressions on their faces. They appeared panicked, startled even, sharing a strange look before turning back to Elsa.

"I'm sorry?" asked Ward Sister Davies, kindly. "Who?"

"The baby," repeated Elsa, "My cousin,"

"_Baby_?"

"Yes, my aunt was pregnant," said Elsa sternly, wondering what exactly the Ward Sister was playing at, "Several months, from what I can remember,"

The Ward Sisters looked to each other again, descending into hushed whispers.

"What is it?" Charles asked the Ward Sisters, rising from his seat.

"Do you-do you have any proof of this?" asked Ward Sister Davies, looking to her colleague anxiously.

"Proof? Why on earth would you need proof?" exclaimed Elsa, now on her feet. "You've examined her haven't you? Didn't you see-?"

"Well that's the thing Ms. Muller; we haven't," sneered Ward Sister Alamain, stone like eyes staring down at Elsa with nothing less than mirth and contempt. "We've done just about every possible examination required at this stage and believe us, an unborn four to five month old baby would have been the first to be seen,"

She gave Elsa a once over. "There is no baby."

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Now, Miss..."

"I'm not lying!" Elsa shrieked, startling several other people in the vicinity, "My aunt was pregnant!"

"It's true, Ward Sister. Elsa was even sent a picture-" Erik began slowly, only to be rudely interrupted by the dejected Almain. He raised his brow, shaking his head as he turned away.

"But the fact of the matter is, a baby was not in the deceased's womb when she was brought to us,"

"Well, how could that possibly be?" growled Elsa, becoming more and more agitated with each passing second. "A baby cannot simply _disappear_!"

"Perhaps he died in the fire?" offered Ward Sister Davies, her voice so quiet it was as if she was ashamed to suggest such a thing. Alamain shot her a dirty look.

"Then wouldn't it be prudent to assume that the child would be with his mother?" asked Charles diplomatically, ignoring a dismissive huff from Alamain.

Silence passed between them again, Elsa unable to hide her this was the height of incompetency? To completely disregard an unborn child and declare it non-existent?

"I truly am sorry for your loss, Miss," said Davies finally. She bit her lip, unable to look Elsa in the eye. "It's bad enough that you...I'll talk to the detectives again, see what they can do. Alright?" She took the clipboard from Alamain's hands and motioned to Charles. "Mr. Xavier-"

"Professor." Elsa interjected absently.

"-Professor. Could I borrow you for a moment?" She ushered Charles into a nearby interview room, Alamain sulkily following suit. Before Davies herself entered, she turned on the spot and offered Elsa a sad smile. "You may go in you like. But please, don't touch anything,"

Elsa remained where she stood, taking a few moments to process what Davies had allowed her to do. She had every right not to go in, every right to remain as she was. But she needed to see this, needed to see that it was real. She had been able to grieve for her family back in England; she had been given a second opportunity.

She quickly searched for Erik, hesitant to face it alone, but had failed to realise that he had disappeared.

Mustering all the courage she could, she slowly edged to the containment room, placed her hand on the slim handle and clicked it open. It automatically swung wide, waiting for her to enter.

It was a sparse, gloomy place, nothing more than a few steel shelves and a generic wall clock. Two steel wheeled tables sat in the centre, set apart with mathematical precision. Elsa could not believe that after all that happened to them, the highs and lows of life and everything in between, this is where her guardians had ended up; still, breathless and a white cloth placed over them.

She edged closer to what she assumed was her uncle's body, her hand shakily hovering over the corner of cloth. She had been told not to touch anything, but Elsa was sure the Ward had meant not to touch the actual bodies themselves.

Sighing, tears dropping as freely as rain, Elsa pulled back the cloth.

It was horrific.

Any semblance of her uncle was gone, all that she had come to know twisted and burnt away. His skin had been burnt black, some places completely devoid of flesh where the fire had been the most efficient. His thick hair had turned into nothing but a few pathetic whiskers, the scalp red raw and torn. But what really stuck to Elsa, what really sent her over the edge, was the look of complete agony that had remained upon his face. His mouth was wide open, that too burnt and peeling, his eyes tightly squeezed as if he had spent his last moments wailing.

At that point, Elsa crumpled, unable to control the tears that left her. She sobbed silently, covering her cries with her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she moaned, "Uncle, I'm so sorry,"

She shivered, staring at her feet in shame. Elsa wanted so much to bring him back, to bring them both; to replace their cold and destroyed bodies with her own.

She heard a creak of the door, immediately switching her gaze as Erik slowly strode in. No words passed, the older man looking as if he was struggling for something to say. He held his chin high, looking at Elsa with an expression she could not decipher.

Involuntarily, she began to cough, violent heaves of her chest that had her doubling over.

"Tuberculosis," said Erik, tapping his chest. Elsa glared at him, lips pursed tightly together and eyes unblinking. Erik instantly withered. "Sorry,"

He moved round, standing beside her as he too surveyed the body. "Really, I am,"

Elsa kept her gaze upon Tobias, lids lowered and her lips slightly parted. Erik's arm was brushed up against her own, and she was glad for the human contact in such a dead and desolate place.

"The baby...they're saying he's not here, but he...I..." she stuttered. Elsa looked up at Erik, searching his eyes for something she was not exactly sure of. "I'm not crazy, am I Erik? I haven't gone round the twist?"

"No, of course not," he frowned.

"Then what happened?" She looked back to her uncle's mangled body, wishing she had mutated transferable regenerative powers rather than telepathy and metamorphism. She hovered her fingers over his eyes, itching to close them. "They're telling me it's murder. They were killed,"

"By their own kind, no doubt," scoffed Erik, quietly.

"What will you do, Erik, when you finally see Shaw again?" Elsa asked suddenly, her voice thick with her pain. "How will you do it?"

Erik appeared briefly startled, however immediately settled for a more unreadable expression. "I'll figure it out when the time comes,"

Elsa could only imagine that Erik had already figured what he would do; he had had many years to brew his revenge. But Erik played his cards very close to his chest, and that Elsa would respect.

"I think, I think I understand it now." She said quietly. "This rage that drives you. This...this insatiable thirst."

He smirked. "What turned you?"

"He ruined your life, took it when it wasn't his to take," said Elsa, simply. "As Lewis has mine," She paused for a moment. "I know he's had something to do with this, everything maybe,"

Erik tilted his head. Despite the rage and vengeance that drove him, he also understood the need to exercise caution. "You don't know that,"

"Erik, please, if there is one thing that is certain this was no accident," Elsa scowled. "My aunt and uncle were meticulous, precise. They'd never leave anything to chance. Alright? They wouldn't leave the 'fire burning in the fire place', or-or 'let the gas running'," She winced at the memory of the detectives' suggestions. "Lewis Worthington is a mad man, an undiagnosed psychopath."

Erik remained silent, either politely listening, or lost in his thoughts. Elsa did not mind either of the two; she needed to say these things or else she would go mad. She needed the confirmation, the agreement, even if that meant silence.

"He used to take me hunting, with Warren of course. We'd go and shoot ducks and pigeons, little things really. But sometimes, something big would come along. A deer, or even a stag if we were lucky. They were always reserved for Lewis, though." She chuckled bitterly at the memory. "I never could get it out of my head, the way he used to look when he gutted it. I used to think it was his way of protecting us, that he was so jovial so that we children didn't notice the blood and the guts. But I know now. I've realised it. He _enjoyed_ it, Erik. He enjoyed it. He treasured the entire process; from the thrill of the chase, the climax culminating in the kill and the pride in the gutting. I never could get that look in his eyes out my head. _Blood lust_. Yes, that's what it was; blood lust,"

"Shaw was never as wild as your Lewis. Cold and ruthless, but not wild," offered Erik, his eyes hard as stone as he seemingly remembered those excruciating memories. "Calculating and scientific, everything down to a single measurement and to an exact amount."

The two stood, quiet in their own wretched solace, unable to say what exactly was in their hearts.

"Does it get easier?" Elsa asked.

Erik paused, brow furrowed and lips pursed.

"No,"

Elsa couldn't help what came next, the wave of shudders, half-formed sobs and bursts of tears. She doubled over, flopping onto the floor, sodden with tears and like a child again.

"I want to turn it off," Elsa cried, "Erik, I want to turn it off."

There were no words of comfort from Erik, only the sudden grasp of his arms around her, her head pulled up against his chest. He held her there, allowing Elsa to sodden his shirt and soak the singlet beneath. He held her, pulling her closer with each shudder; Elsa was sure that if he pulled any harder, they'd become one.

They sat upon the floor, a tangle of limbs as the minutes passed, but the pain undoubtedly stayed.

"We have something else in common now," Erik whispered.

Elsa subdued herself a little, controlling her wails as she rested a hand upon his chest. She waited for him to continue, knowing he wasn't expecting a response.

"Neither of us will be able to stop, be able to breathe again until we have one man's blood is on our hands," he said. He sighed heavily, more so than Elsa had ever seen or heard him. "We'll get them, Elsa. We'll get them. For every tear they've made you and I shed, for every moment of darkness and pain, we'll get them,"

Elsa buried her face in his chest, closing her eyes. She steadied her breathing, synchronising it with the heavy beat of Erik's heart. Soon, she fell asleep, more comfortable and more at peace than she had ever been. She did not hear Erik's last words, and even if she had, they had blurred and appeared groggy.

"I promise, my dear,"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ah, another chapter done and dusted, and all the while closer to the end I'm afraid. So my lovelies, what did you think? I understand it is moving a little slow, perhaps the pacing is inconsistent, but it has to happen. Thank you so much to Forever-a-spartan, SkysFireLady15 (and i realised, i don't think i thanked you for answer my question about american football, BUT THANKS!) and to the anonymous reviewer 'Guest' Yay! I'm glad you like this story and glad that you liken Elsa to Nina Dobrev. She isn't exactly what I had in mind but nevertheless, a great comparison! Unfortunately, LizziePikie-Aiko is a little MIA but hopefully she will return! <strong>

**AND...80 REVIEWS AND 72 FOLLOWS! My god, thank you so much to everyone! You cannot begin to imagine how grateful I am for the ongoing support!**

**Also i was wondering, and it may be a little too much to ask, but I was wondering if any of you have maybe any sketches of what Elsa or any of the other characters might look like? Maybe, ahem, a little fanart? Just wondering!**

**Now. I've created a poll and it concerns Elsa. Either some of you will gawp or will send me internet bitch slaps, but either way, I'd really appreciate it if you'd take the poll! **


	24. Finally

Chapter 24

-Finally-

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><p><em>"A man's greatest battles, are the ones he fights within himself,<em>"-Ben Okri

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><p>Time was a rather curious thing to Charles Xavier, and not a subject of discussion that he took lightly. It was a source of enthusiasm and wonder for him, for it time was such a substantial and integral part of human life, however, it remained as perhaps one of the few natural phenomeas that Man had not yet tamed for himself.<p>

And as he sat in the kitchen, a mug of dark and bitter coffee in one hand and his diary within the other, Charles could do nothing but shake his head at the way in which the year had passed. It seemed as if it were only yesterday that he had been approached by Moira MacTaggert, that rather rainy day of his graduation from Oxford and not long after that he had found Erik and the other mutants. He marvelled at how far they had all come, from their respective beginnings to this point in time. Of course, they still had much to achieve still but it simply would not do to ignore what they had managed to attain this past half year.

Charles looked over to Erik, the hardened mutant flipping non-commitedly through the day's newspaper, more specifically the obituary. He was no doubt secretly smiling at the various deaths of the unfortunate humans, a part of Erik Charles had yet to tame. Charles understood Erik's pain and his agony, but he unilke his friend, he did not believe that it could be relieved with vengeance. It was there, Charles recognized, that he and Erik differed. And the difference had become actuely obvious following the deaths of Tobias and Marie Muller. Charles had pleaded caution and peace to the young mutant, whilst Erik's poisonous whispers of vengeance and passionate retribution had been rather disturbing to Charles. Elsa, despite her supposed independence, was extremely vulnerable to influence and from the likes of Erik, could prove in the future quite dangerous.

But for the moment, Charles had decided to place those thoughts and ponderings away, and rather concentrate on the situation at hand. The tension between the United States and Russia had intensified, although both sides had insisted on various occasions that nuclear war would not emenate from their respective arsenals. Charles knew better, however, for Shaw's influence over the Russians was plain to see. The information he had gained from Emma Frost had been startling to comprehend and even more so now that it was obvious the Hellfire Club's intentions were beginning to come to fruitation.

He sighed, there was so much going on that his social calender had become sparse. It was perhaps pitiful, to mope over one's social existence when the very esscence of life itself was being threatened, but Charles could not deny that he liked to have a good time and God knows, they all needed a break. He ran his finger down the compacted calender of his diary, passing various dates and events until he finally stopped.

"Hmm," murmured Charles, furrowing his brow.

"What is it?" asked Erik montonosly, not bothering to look up from the obituaries.

"According to my calender...it's Elsa's birthday soon. Two weeks to be exact," said Charles, smiling at the thought. That was rather uplifting, and at the same time wonderous, to think that even one's environment was undergoing significant changes, life would continue.

"Nineteen years old, isn't that right?" mumbled Erik, suddenly flashed with the memory of his own nineteen year old self. Lost and dazed, broken and mangled, wandering aimlessly through the streets of Austria. Erik shook his head, pursing his lips as he returned to his paper; he would not dwell on that.

"Yes," said Charles, seemingly oblivious of Erik's delayed response. "Almost forgot about it. But I suppose with everything's that's happened as of late..."

Charles' sessions with Elsa had been rather non-progressive as of late, the poor girl choosing to wrap herself up into a ball of limbs than to talk to him about her troubles. All he could pick up from her these days was shroudiness and obscurity.

He turned to Erik. "So what are we going to do?"

Erik folded over the top of the newspaper, looking at Charles with a rather blasè expression. "Excuse me?"

"For her birthday, what are we going to do?" Charles smiled, eyes twinkling with their usual glow.

"Bake her a cake and congratulate her for losing another year of her life," shrugged Erik.

"I think you mean _gaining_ another year," laughed Charles, tapping his friend gently on the shoulder.

Erik grumbled, the flickering lights above them. "I meant what I said,"

There was the sound of the kitchen door screeching at its hinges, and following a few dainty footfalls, Raven appeared. She was dressed in her training uniform, for the girl had taken to exercising before breakfast, something that she found boosted her strength.

"Good morning, Charles." And the Professor was quick to return her greeting.

She sat beside Erik, pouring herself a bowl of cornflakes.

"Good morning, Erik," she smiled. Erik mumbled, but did not offer anything more.

"Raven, Elsa's birthday is soon; what shall we do?" Charles asked, and Erik noticed he was becoming more and more enthusaiastic with each passing second.

"I was thinking about that the other night," said Raven, flipping her blonde tresses over her shoulder. "We should go out somewhere. Like a restaurant or something,"

"Mmm. A little clustered in the Mansion, aren't we?" agreed Charles.

"Yeah," said Raven. She squinted her eyes a little, pursing her lips in concentration. "Somewhere quiet, but not so quiet there's no one around,"

The sounds of footfalls returned, this time revealing an already dressed Moira and a still pyjama clad Hank, Sean and Alex.

"Think you know a place, Moira?" Raven asked the agent.

"I think I do," smiled Moira, evidently having heard the former half of the conversation. It did not surprise Charles, given that Moira was trained to be alert to such things. She seated herself beside Charles with a rather pitiful bowl of porridge.

"We'll make it a surprise," squealed Raven, unable to hide her grin.

"Make what a surprise?" asked Sean, yawning with the grace of walrus as his outstretched arm casually knocked Alex at the side of the head..

"Elsa's birthday party,"

"It's a party now?" asked Erik, raising his brow.

"A get together," offered Charles, "At a restaurant of Moira's discretion,"

"Well, we're all happy about it, but have any of you stopped to consider what Elsa wants?" said Hank matter-of-factly. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "She hasn't even had her aunt and uncle's funeral yet,"

"All the more reason to celebrate the miracle of life," said Charles.

Raven sat up straight, chewing on her cornflakes. "Where is she, by the way? I don't think I've seen her since last night."

The group automatically turned to Alex, the boy fast becoming the source of all things Elsa related. Alex became aware of the eyes upon him, and rather resentfully he looked up from his spreading of butter on his blackened slice of bread.

"In her room," muttered Alex, continuing to butter his toast

"_Still_?" Sean moaned.

Elsa had kept herself to her room for a week now, only allowing Charles into her sanctum for the sole purpose of, frankly, unfufilling sessions. The others had grown worried and anxious, confused as to either force comfort and support upon her or leave her be.

"I don't think she'll be coming out anytime soon."

"Well, what is she going to eat?" exclaimed Charles. "She can't stayed cooped up in there forever,"

"She's been hoarding," said Alex, looking to everyone as if they knew what exactly it was they were talking about. Silence passed before Erik spoke:

"Beg your pardon?"

"Every night, she comes down to the kitchen, packs up a whole lot of food and takes it upstairs with her," said Alex, simply taking a bite out of toast.

"She told you this?" asked Moira.

"No, I've seen her. She hasn't really been talking to me lately,"

Alex could not help but flare at the thought. He had grown rather irritated with Elsa as of late, upset that she had chosen to shut herself up rather than to speak to him at the very least. It made him wonder just how much she trusted him, if at all.

"Well, she'll have to come out for her training. I still have a lot of work to do," Charles looked to Erik. "We all do,"

It was undeniable, the gloom that now hung in the air. What had began as an excited and enthusiastic discussion of ideas for what usually symbolized family and celebration, had quickly turned sour. The blatant truth, the nature of their friend's predicament simply could not be hidden with fancy bows and ribbons.

"Let's not bother her, for now," suggested Hank, running his hand through his thick hair. "She'll need the space,"

* * *

><p>The sugar of the lime jujubee sat bubbling on Elsa's tongue, the sweet matter leaving the broken gelatine and sliding down her throat with enjoyable ease. She picked another from her palm, chewing on it with the same eagerness.<p>

She wiped off the excess sugar from her hands, watching the tiny particles fall to the woolen carpet beneath her feet as she crossed her arms over her chest. The cooridoor lights were beginning to dim, programmed to do so at a particular intervals every evening. It was a rather innoative feature and one which saved a considerable amount of money when it came to the electricity bills.

The bulbs flickered a little, but it gave no reason for Elsa to worry. The moon was shining through the high set windows, bright white rays providing spots of light for Elsa to dance her feet upon.

Elsa checked her father's watch, squinting a little as the moonlight bounced off its dome like face. It was perhaps three in the morning, the supposed witching hour Elsa comically reminded herself, and she was the only one up. Nothing stirred, not the scuttle of a mouse or the harp of a cricket, even the winds had ceased their usual howls. All that could be heard was the faint thuds of Elsa's bare feet and her occasional and quiet exerted breaths.

Elsa had, over the last week or so, taken to wandering the Mansion at unholy hours of the night. She wasn't sure exactly why she did it, what compelled her to do such a thing, but there was something in the back of her mind that begged her to do so. There was no aim, no point of destination, no peak of culmination.

A psychiatrist, or even Charles himself, may have told her that it was a result of unresolved grievences or feelings of loss and confusion.

Elsa supposed that the assumption was half right. For what she did know, what she was acutely aware of, was that her wanderings were fuelled by thoughts of her aunt and uncle. Happier memories colliding with more recent ones, times of paradise lost and paradise once lived. She often thought of their little one too, the infant who had never had the chance to realise the light of day. Or at least, to the best of her knowledge.

The child was still missing, still unacounted for among the rubble and debris. It made Elsa worry, and wonder. Sick to the stomach to think that the dependent infant was out there somewhere, cold and hungry and without his mother, but filled with curiousity as to how he managed to escape in the first place. It was, after all, still very much a fetus.

Elsa turned a corner, passing Alex's room. She halted abruptly, balling her fists at her sides, feeling her chest constrict a little.

Elsa had been rather cold with Alex as of late and for reasons that were entirely unfair. He had been nothing but doting from the moment she had returned form the morgue. Constantly asking her how she was, did she need anything, was there anything he could personally?

For the most part, however, it irritated Elsa. And that in itself shamed Elsa deeply. None of this was his fault and to treat Alex in such a way when he himself offered her nothing but sympathy,was entirely out of order.

But it was not sympathy Elsa wished for. No words of comfort, no assurances of a bright future ahead.

What Elsa wanted was ressurection, the return of her loved ones, both from this realm of her life and the one she had run from. And by and by, she had begun to catch herself wishing for a return to the life she used to live. To the love she had once loved.

She peeked into his room, feeling all the more pitiful as she watched his sleeping figure. The tiny gasps of air that left his inflared nostrils, the rise and fall of his muscular chest. How could she? How could she be so ungrateful?

Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she would speak with him, perhaps apologize and make amends. What would have been prudent, was to storm into his room right now and get the whole thing over with. But for once, procrastination seemed to be the only option.

She contiued on her way, yawning as she entered her own room.

She slipped off her house-robe and chucked it unceremoniously onto her bed, locking the door behind her as she did. She pulled her hair out of its bun, letting it fall to her shoulders before quickly knotting it into a loose braid. Elsa had found that she could never keep her hair out for too long; it felt horribly unnatural.

She started for the other side of her room, just passing the feet of her bed when she realised that there was something moving in the shadows. She halted, muscles rigid and breath caught in her throat.

Elsa had become so familiar with the darkness of the Mansion, so used to traversing with no visual assitance whatsoever, she had not realised that she had not turned on any of the lamps in her room.

With much grace and delicacy, she quietly grabbed the nearest weapon she could find and quick as a flash turned on the bedside lamp.

Elsa fell back onto her feet.

Brilliant blue eyes, and thick golden hair, sharp set shoulders that held the impressive frame. Red-raw and rod like fingers curled menacingly around the tips of the arm rest, feet planted firmly on the ground. Even in the half light, even in her daze and confusion, Elsa knew.

Lewis.

"Good morning, my dear," said Lewis Worthington, with the same peace and casual air he had always worn. There was something in his voice, however, an undercurrent of excitement that frightened Elsa with each passing second. His eyes locked with her own, and without fail, his trademark grin began to arise.

She found that she was paralysed upon the ground, as if her arms and legs had been glued to the floor.

Her mind was reeling, bile rising in her throat.

_What?_

_What?_

_This can't be happening. _

_This can't be happening. _

Lewis sat up from his seat, hands clutched behind his back as he began to pace thoughtfully.

Elsa scurried back on to her feet, distancing herself as far from Lewis as possible. She looked down into her hand and was appalled to see her weapon of choice was nothing more than a fountain pen.

She watched as his coat flapped behind him, a rather fetching thing made of only the finest wool padding and velvet lining. She recognized it, of course, for she had seen it on countless occasions; his hunting coat.

It had been specifically designed for him, by a friend who worked in a clothing factory in London's East. Made to withstand the blistering winds and heaviest of rains, coloured in such a way to completely conceal him from his prey, to allow him maximum stealth, and overall success.

Elsa couldn't believe it. She simply couldn't. Perhaps there was something in the jujubees she had eaten. Perhaps all these months had finally sent her round the twist.

"I quite like this room. Most unlike the one you had back at home," he said dreamily, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He wandered over to her sparse, yet developing, desk of photographs and picked one up.

Elsa could see from a distance that it was shot of herself and Sean, arms wrapped around each other and each doning a paper hat and equally silly grins. Elas instantly could recall that day, she could still hear the rockabilly music, the burnt incense of the vanilla scented candles and the laughter that had filled the red-headed boy's twentieth birthday.

"Is this you?" Lewis smiled, running his finger over the glass.

Elsa felt nauseus, with startling clarity remembering that shewas not the only one in this building. She could picture their bloodied and mangled bodies, eyes wide and in shock. Broken and torn, the life completely gone from their eyes; Charles, Erik, Raven, Hank, Alex and Sean. Even Moira. Suddenly, there was a whole list of people Elsa stood to lose again.

What was it the Ward Sister had told her, when she had been found sobbing in Erik's arms? To pray? To pray for her loved ones who had passed, and for those who had remained.

But this God simply could not keep taking people away from her.

Elsa had to keep him here, she realised, keep him occupied until somehow help could come. But there were so many questions clogging up in her mind, so many thoughts and so much fog; Elsa could feel herself becoming faint.

"Come now, why so quiet?" laughed Lewis, as if there was nothing wrong in the world, "We haven't seen each other in quite some time,"

"How the hell did you find me?" Elsa managed to gasp, her lips barely letting the words through. She could feel her throat beginning to dry, and she had to close her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

Lewis began to advance towards her, holding his hands up as if in surrender. "Elsa, please, let's just put aside the hostilities and-"

"DON'T YOU DARE! Don't you _dare_ take another step!" Elsa shrieked, holding up the pen. Her hands were shaking, her body dancing to a similar rhythm.

She glanced around wildly, her hair flying about around her.

"Who's here with you?" she hissed.

"No one," shrugged Lewis. "I had a couple of men with me before, but I've sent them back home."

Elsa felt like crying again, felt like too much the tiny child lost in the markets and screaming for her mother.

_Mother? Mother, where are you?_

Elsa felt like running again, bolting out through her door and down the garden lane. She would run forever, run until her bare feet would bleed and she would collapse from the exhaustion. The pain her heart began to weight upon her again, and each passing second offered her no relief.

Lewis sighed deeply, a rather pensive expression upon his face.

"You know, all I wanted to do was to come and see you, hold you for a moment. But no one seemed to understand, all these people just kept on getting in my way," He shook his head, an expression on his face that suggested he was marvelling at all he had had to go through. "Crazy, isn't it?"

All sorts of disturbing and frightening images began to play in Elsa's mind,tales of unknown faces made bloody by Lewis' unforgiving hands. She could begin to imagine what Lewis had done to come to this point,and Elsa could not help but think that despite his involvement, these people whoever they were, their blood was on her hands.

Lewis turned on his heel, then stopped, holding a finger to his lips. "Mm, Warren sends his regards,"

A slow, wicked grin began to unfurl upon Lewis' depraved countenance. It seemed as if the devil himself has possessed him. "Still weak for him, I see. Well, I can't blame you; he is _my _son,"

Anger boiled within Elsa, bubbling and writhing with frightening pace.

"Warren is _nothing_ like you!" Elsa spat, slowly regaining her spirit.

"Is? Or was?" He taunted, sick glee dancing in his eyes. "Because from what I can recall, he was quite good at playing the bystander that night."

_Elsa screamed at the top of her lungs as both of her brothers' brains splattered on the floor. She did not stop screaming, even as she fell to the ground. Even as flailed her hands around and banged her fists upon the floor._

Elsa shook her head, desperate to prevent those memories from returning. She could see them again, she could hear those screams again.

"Haven't you forgotten him yet?"

"I..I have-" Elsa began to stutter, utterly disppointed by her weak and shrilly tone.

"He's forgotten you. In fact, he wed not a couple of months ago,"

Elsa went rigid at the words, the colour draining from her face and her limbs slowly turning immobile. She hadn't really given that much thought, how exactly Warren would get on with his life. She knew he would eventually, but in such a way...

_They fell into the snow in a tangled mess, with Warren clutching onto Elsa's frame desperately as the girl struggled to get away. They wrestled for a while, tossing and turn into the snow, rolling in the coldness and the accumulating dampness ._

"You must realise it Elsa, dear; he never loved you. You were just a play thing until he-"

"Is that what he told you? Or is that what you kept telling yourself? Hmm? Everytime he snuck me in, or I snuck him out, is that what let you sleep at night?" She shrieked, unable to contain herself nor retain a rational head. "Believe me, if there is anyone he never loved, it's you."

Lewis began to pace towards her, the poison in his eyes as evident as a snake among mice. But Elsa was beyond reasoning, beyond caution or careful thought. She had been ruined by this man, every piece of happiness and joy robbed, and all that she had ever been destroyed. She had no mind to exercise caution, to think about the consequences of her words combined with Lewis' volatile temper.

"He hated you."

Lewis came closer with each pitiful and devastating word.

"You were never a father to him, just the man who put a roof over his head!" Lewis grabbed Elsa by the hip, yanking her down with the sharp tug of his hand, wrapped around her braid.

"Agh!"

"Hold your tongue, my dear," he growled into her ear, his hot breath stricking against her, "You just might lose it,"

Lewis let her go, her body falling to the ground with a thud. He arched his back a little, smiling contently at the tiny _crack!_ his back made as he did so.

A small, folded paper fell out of his pocket, and Elsa was quick to nick it, still reeling from the fact that Lewis had touched her.

Elsa gasped, recognizing the scrawled writing.

"I wrote this...I wrote this for-for..."

"For your uncle and aunt, I know," interjected Lewis monotonously,"They'd clung to it like a barnacle to a ship."

_His skin had been burnt black, some places compeltely devoid of flesh where the fire had been the most efficient. His thick hair had turned into nothing but a few pathetic whiskers, the scalp red raw and torn._

"It was you. I was right," she gasped, slowly climbing back onto her feet. Her pen lay idly at her side, her body no longer capable of a defensive stance. "_You_ killed them, _you_ set their house on fire,"

"Juilty as charged," sighed Lewis, rubbing his eyes.

"Why?" she whimpered.

"Why?" Lewis mimicked her pathetic tone, and immiediately, Elsa wanted to dissolve into the floor.

"They wouldn't tell me where you were!" He kicked over her chair, sending the antique shattering.

"Why are you doing this?" Elsa asked, her voice quavering, "Lewis, why are you doing this to me? All my life, I've seen you as nothing less than a second father. There wasn't a moment...a-a birthday, or a Christmas or...or..._nothing_ I could fathom without you!"

She clutched her heart. "What have I done? What did I do that was so wrong-?"

"I too, saw you as the daughter I never had," Lewis said quietly, his expression soft and almost remorseful. For a moment, his youthful beauty returned, and Elsa could see the man she had once known.

"Then?"

"I'd rather not say-"

"Don't!" yelled Elsa, "I have been in _nothing _but the dark this past year! I have been left to pick up the rags of my life and be expected to just move on!"

Lewis hestiated a little, evidently this was as hard for him as it was for her. It took him a while to speak, but when he finally did, it came as a mere whisper.

"I loved your mother. It was her. Always her," He said.

A thousand twisted and frayed ends began to connect within Elsa's mind, those simple words serving as the final key in her puzzle.

_Of course, of course. _

"You know I sometimes, I sometimes have such thoughts. I hear things and I see things that no one else can see. I know things no else knows. And I'd just get so angry. Your mother, she...she always knew how to calm me. How to hold my hand in a way I didn't notice." Tears were falling freely from Lewis' eyes, perhaps the only example of humility within him Elsa had ever seen. "She was my...everything. Then of course your father came along, but I suppose he was always there. Always in the shadows. He swept her off her feet and, well, there was no time for me."

"That's not true." Elsa said, keen to keep him talking; despite everything, she was interested. "She visited you, always she-"

"She visited me as a married woman to another man," Lewis interjected, "Now that I think back on it, I wonder if she ever truly loved me at all. If I wasn't just... a project, little Loopy Lewis. Something she could chat to her friends about, you know?"

Elsa closed her eyes, an alarming thought coming to mind.

"Did you...Warren's mother...did you kill-?" she stuttered.

"Kill his mother? Goodness no. Lucretia was always a weak little thing. Having a baby was just too much for her body. Even so, I don't think she could have survived me." He sat upon her bed, elbows rested on his knees. "It was such, a knife in my heart, seeing you and Warren. Like an insult really."

"I went along with it, humoured it. But I had my suspicions, see. About you, about your brothers. There was always something not quite right about any of you. Especially Klaus."

He looked to her. "Warren told me in the end, under duress though if I'm to be perfectly honest. Warren's such a good lad, so unlike me. Very loyal to you, it quite literally took a lot out of him to finally give you up."

"What did it matter?" said Elsa, unable to hide her disgust, "What did it matter that I'm-?"

"What did it matter?" shriked Lewis, suddenly springing to his feet, "My dear God Elsa, isn't it obvious? My son, my good and honourable son falling in love with the daughter of a-a Machiavellian whore, no doubt one herself! And not only that, you turned out to be an abomination of nature. An insult to human evolution and all that man kind stands for!"

"My mother was a mutant too!" Elsa protested.

"I know that now. And it's a good thing I got out of there before I really ruined myself." Lewis chuckled. Elsa was astounded by his swaying mood, his traversion from hysterical to sane. He stood quietly, rubbing his fingers absently over his left knuckles as he muttered something to himself.

Elsa took the opportunity, sprinting for her door. She had just managed to climb over her bed when Lewis shoved her back with an almighty slap of his powerful hand.

"You're not calling for help, don't you dare think about it." He growled, "I know there are others like you here, and believe me once I'm done with you, I'll deal with them. But until then, this is between you and me."

Without another word, Lewis pulled a long and serrated carving knife from deep within in his pockets. He clutched it tightly, the deep bloodlust settling within his eyes.

"Lewis, please, stop. Let me call the others."

"No," said Lewis, shaking his head fervently and waving the knife before her, "I have to do this,"

"I'll get you help," Elsa begged, her voice thick with pain, "You need help."

Lewis stopped for a moment, paused as if time itself had stilled. A sad smile appeared upon his face, an expression so baby like, even Elsa was fooled. It was as if he was remebering something, a memory perhaps that allowed him to act in such a way.

"I can help myself."

"Lewis, please. We can end this-"

Lewis began to tense himself, his lion like limbings coiling in anticpation. There was no escape for Elsa, no opening and no rescue.

"That I will," he muttered quietly. "That I will,"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you to S-Dawg101 and to Druid Archer (although, it was a rather strange review!). I'd really appreicate it if you'd all go to my profile page and read the note I've left for you. Thank you!<strong>


	25. Helplessness

Chapter 25

-Helplessness-

Charles could recall when he was about ten years of age, a time at which the world had been embroiled in World War and when most ten year old children would have been cowering in underground bunkers or holed up in gas chambers, he had already fully harnessed his powers.

It had been clear to the other children that the little copper haired boy was somewhat different, but for all the world could not figure out why. It had earned him the label of 'freak' and 'weirdo'; the way in which he could narrate what exactly was going on in another's mind, utter answers that had not been uttered before and recite very intimate and very personal traits of his fellow classmates. Others simply took his uncanny perceptiveness as keen observation, whilst a few became fascinated.

One such child had been Bobby Henshaw. A quiet, mousy haired child whose small stature and weak configuration had seen him become the target of relentless bullying for most of his young life. However, Charles could remember his sunny disposition, the infallible optimism which simply refused to leave him.

Charles had invited the boy over for tea once; a rare opportunity which allowed his mother to dress up extravagantly and decorate the house accordingly, for her only son hardly brought home any friends.

They had been running in the fields that day, Mr. Xavier's hand-made kite flying high in the air along with their hysterical and childish giggles. Charles could recall Bobby's smiling and sunny face, the occasional snort and the odd twinkle in his eyes. And he could recall how all that had faded, how quickly it had left him when the boy fell head first as the ground caved beneath him.

Sink holes, the authorities had called them. A rare phenomenon which occurred spontaneously, at any given place and with no prior warning whatsoever. A mechanism of fate.

Charles could see in his mind little Bobby's arms flailing in the air, the look of utmost horror etched upon his face. Charles could remember leaning over the edge, calling out words of encouragement and hope to his friend, not knowing whether the boy was alright or not for the hole stretched deep and was excruciatingly dark.

Charles could recall the pain, the indescribable horror and that feeling of utter helplessness that for all his power and his evolutionary prowess, he had not been able to stop Bobby Henshaw from snapping his neck.

And nineteen years later, as Charles stood outside Elsa's door, pounding against it and desperate to save her, he felt that way once more. So utterly helpless, so bloody _useless_, unable to hold the girl and assure her of safety because he had no means to do so.

He had woken in the middle of the night, startled by the thuds and thumps from above his floor, and troubled also from the flinches of pain and agony in his mind that he recognised were not his own. He had quickly rushed to her aide, had assessed what was going on, before he attempted to break in.

Slowly but surely, the other mutants, save for Erik, had left their own troubled slumbers and had found themselves in the same predicament as Charles. There was not much they could do; they were not fully aware of what was going on behind the oak door and therefore, could not be sure if utilizing their powers would cause more harm than good. Charles did not own a gun, but Charles had never been one to preach violence as a means to an end, and so that did not present a solution either.

The group jumped as an almighty crash, the tell-tale sound of broken glass and the imminent cry of pain that followed, rippled through them all. Charles quickly glanced over his shoulder; Hank, Alex and Sean hung out the back, the last of the three crossed legged on the floor, tears rushing down his face as he knotted his fingers absently. Hank paced the corridor, running his hands repeatedly through his hair, shaking his head as he did. Raven stood a quivering mess, lip quavering and snot dribbling. Alex, perhaps the most terrified of them all, was sitting upon a stool, head hung between his knees as he struggled to contain his rising dread.

Charles leaned against the door, heart pounding and breath heavy as he strained for noises or sounds that might indicate hope. Moira stood by his side, clad in her bright blue nightgown, but pale from fear and shaken with fear.

They heard a shriek, the thump of a flesh against flesh, followed by a blood-curdling scream and the entire group stood to attention.

"ELSA!" cried Charles. He rattled the handle manically and subsequently slammed the wood of the door in frustration. "ELSA!"

"Can't you do something?" exclaimed Moira, throwing her hands into the air. Her usually neat and flawless chocolate hair looked incredibly frayed, the ends splaying off into all sorts of ungodly directions. "Get into her mind, see what-"

"I can't!" roared Charles, throwing his hands into the air, his cool calm exterior lost.

The group was startled, all silent and wide eyed, having never seen the Professor so flustered and without an answer.

Hank sighed heavily, balling his fists at his sides as he strode over.

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing beside Charles.

The Professor closed his eyes, feeling the nausea creep up his chest. He felt dazed and confused, unable to keep his thoughts in a coherent line.

"She's-she's blocking me." Charles said quietly, facing the young mutants.

The group fell silent, quite unable to comprehend the weight of Charles' words. With a quick scan, Charles could see that they were all thinking the same thing; why?

Raven rushed forward, eyes sodden with tears and words unable to leave her mouth in a comprehendible manner. She grabbed the brass doorknob and shook it violently, slamming it a few times when it did not give in to her aggressive persuasion.

"Why would she lock-!"

"It doesn't matter why, just get the key!" squealed Sean, rising to his feet.

Charles sunk to the floor, back against the wall, feeling more defeated than he had in a long while. He held his hands in his face; voice muffled by his fingers and his words almost a sob.

"I can't," he croaked, "P-part of our trust exercises saw me hand over the key to her room, to her. It was meant to help-"

The group quietly groaned to themselves, the direness of their situation fast becoming desperately apparent.

Rising to his feet, Alex rolled up his sleeves and moved forward, an expression of sheer determination on his face.

"Step aside." He growled. Already, he was tensing himself for detonation.

"We're trying to get in so we can get to her _alive_, Alex, not burn her up in the process," hissed Sean, hands on his hips.

Alex flared with anger, pale skin quickly turning red. Sean himself looked equally so, the tension, the anxiety, the fear and the dread getting to them both. Before anyone had had a true hold on the situation, Alex let out an almighty war-cry and lunged for Sean, the latter of the two mirroring Alex's actions.

Hank caught Sean just before impact, holding the struggling boy against him; Hank had a surprisingly good grip.

And it was equally an almost comical moment, when Alex himself was pulled back mid-air by strong, straining arms.

"That's not going to help anyone," muttered Erik quietly against Alex's ear, holding him for a brief moment before the blasé mutant placed Alex back onto the stool, his brilliant blue eyes burning into Alex's own.

Erik hunched his shoulders; it was obvious he was restraining himself from any outbursts of uncharacteristic emotion. Even if the situation would allow it.

Charles watched Erik with amusement from his de-elevated stance, wondering why Erik's obvious attachment to the girl did not allow a far more anxious exterior; he appeared to be made of stone.

Charles felt terribly deflated, time ticking so agonisingly and so painfully away. Even the presence of his good friend could not lighten his dampened spirits.

"You do it," Raven said suddenly, springing to her feet, her hair flying behind her. She turned to the older man. "Erik, open the lock."

The group murmured in agreement.

It did not take Erik much convincing.

Again, not breaking his bleak expression, Erik walked forward and stood before the door. He held out his hand before the lock, his eyes trained solely on the task before him.

Charles willed himself to his feet; new optimism and new vigour infecting him like a disease. He stood beside his friend, hoping against hope that this would work.

"It's alright, Erik, just concentrate," soothed Charles.

Erik scoffed, smirking as he turned his head.

"It's a simple lock, Charles, I think I can man-"

Erik was immediately cut off, however, as a piercing cry ripped through the momentary lapse of urgency. The aftershocks radiated through the others, and Erik himself appeared visibly shaken, eye-lids fluttering erratically. He inhaled sharply, recoiling his hands so that they fisted at his sides.

"I know you're distressed," pleaded Charles, "But please, focus."

"What if she's dead, Charles?" whispered Erik, not daring to catch Charles' unwavering gaze. Charles knew from both the tone and the volume that the desperate question had slipped from Erik's lips for his ears only.

The good Professor could feel the dread oozing out of the other man's pores, every fear radiating from Erik's mind to his own.

He clutched Erik's shoulder, pinching away the tears that came to his eyes. "_Calm your mind_."

Erik closed his eyes, allowing Charles' own peace dampen his fear. He went back to that place, the _'brightest corner of his memory system'_, in which his smiles had once reached his eyes and his laughter untainted, and unsullied.

Throwing back his shoulders, Erik held out both his hands and began to work away at the lock. He was determined. He channelled all his strength, motivated by the joy of seeing Elsa again, and pushing the stark image of the young girl's cold and broken body from his mind.

This couldn't happen, this wasn't going to happen.

Erik Lensherr did not believe in God, for time after time He and all He supposedly represented had failed him. When he had sobbed inconsolably in the confines of the camps, when he had held his battered knees to his chest, and begged for his mother, no one had answered him. No one had saved him.

But a little part of him, a childish remnant which refused to fade away, sent a silent message to that mystical entity, the all seeing deity; they simply could not continue taking people away from him.

But the lock did not budge. He glanced at Charles nervously, and was devastated to see that even the normally optimistic man had lost his colour. He turned back, clenching his teeth as he stood his ground.

The heat slowly rising from within him, the panic returning; why wasn't this working?

And it seemed that the others were beginning to feel the pressure.

"Erik, hurry up!" cried Alex, his tone high pitched and shrill, waving his hands in the air.

Charles whirled round, holding out his hand.

"Alexander, _please!_" He snapped.

The blood was surging in his ears, knocking against his cochlea with such tremendous force; Erik was fearful he would faint.

And just when he was about to give up, about to throw his hands into the air and scream in pain and anger, with a tiny _click!_ the lock finally gave way.

Rather unceremoniously, the door opened by a mere fraction. There was a collective sigh from the group, overwhelmed with the relief only to be inundated with a new fear; what were they to find behind the door?

Charles moved to push the door, his fingers slightly resting on the wood. Moira caught his arm.

"Carefully," she murmured, almost bracing herself.

It had become eerily quiet, everyone holding his or her breath.

Gently, Charles pushed the door, and it opened wide in one swing.

"Oh my, God."

All over the pink pastel walls, the pretty patterns of flowers intertwined with tiny sparrows had been splattered with splashes of deep, crimson blood. Deep and inhuman gashes were imbedded in the walls, the ancient wallpaper drooping miserably at the tears. Grey matter and other unrecognizable substances were smeared all along the windows, slivers of moonlight desperately seeking to shine through. The covers of Elsa's usually neatly kept bed had been torn to shreds, spattered with blood smeared feathers from the ruined pillows.

Charles stood in the middle of the room, the others flanked around him. He could not see Elsa anywhere, which made him fear that the smears of blood and brain were in fact the young mutant. But likewise, he could not see Worthington, which made him equally anxious.

Erik moved passed him, eyes fixated on the sticky black substance that dripped from the ceiling.

"My God," he whispered.

Moira shifted her foot, arms crossed over her chest as she tried to assess what exactly had happened. She was appalled to hear a horrid _squish!_ noise beneath her. As she looked down to see, she shrieked in horror.

There, with an arm missing, guts ripped and shredded, and half his once handsome face caved in, lay Lewis Worthington.

Moira clutched her mouth, falling into Hank's shaking arms in horror.

There was nothing recognizable of the man, nothing to bring to mind the image of the strong and colossal man he had been. The only reason Charles knew this miserable mess was in fact Worthington, had purely been because of Elsa's own mental distress.

His entrails hung from his torn middle, grey and sausage-like. Chunks of flesh were missing from all over his body, blood still steadily flowing from open wounds. At closer inspection, Charles could see the extent of the damage to Worthington's face; the flesh was torn away from the left, exposing two rows of smashed and damaged teeth, the tendons and bone painfully sticking out.

Erik, despite his best efforts, was on the verge of vomiting. He surveyed the others quickly, watching them all with interest. All had taken a terrible pallor, drained of any blood and colour. Alex, in particular was most amusing.

Rather than shock or dismay as the others seemed to be radiating, Alex appeared rather disgusted.

The mutants fell silent once more, all lost in their own thoughts. And as the silence, and the shock, passed, a faint whimper could be heard. The group swivelled round, desperate to hear the noise again. By and by, the whimpering grew louder and as it did, the effeminacy of tone became apparent.

Elsa.

Charles edged closer, straining to track the sobs as much as he could. He manoeuvred around the others, closing his eyes as he searched for Elsa's mind. Perhaps now she had removed her impossible barricades.

_The wardrobe. _

Limbs twisted in an impossible ball, encrusted with dried blood and gore, Elsa sat in the middle of her wardrobe, and disturbed clothing lying crumpled around her. She was sobbing, her bloodied hands covering her even bloodier face.

"Sweetheart..."cooed Raven. She pushed past the others, and reached inside, gently pulling Elsa out.

The girl was a right mess, no better than the ragged mess that lay at their feet. She was quivering shaking like a leaf, her knees dangerously buckling. Unafraid of the fluids that sullied Elsa's skin, Raven clutched her friend to her chest.

Erik wanted to push Raven away and take Elsa instead, hold the girl and truly realise that he had gotten to her in time. Had he saved her? Was that the right term? Erik didn't know. All that he knew was that he had never felt so relieved, and yet equally mortified that he had grown such an attachment to someone else.

He looked to Alex once more. Whilst the others were rejoicing, holding Elsa and dismissing her protests to stay away, Alex stood impartial to the others. He looked as if any minute now he would pass out, disintegrate into a million pieces.

"What?" asked Erik, "What is it?"

Without another word, Alex turned on his heel and shot out of the door. Erik swiftly followed.

"Alex?" he called, the boy ignoring his cries."Alex!"

Erik stayed at the door, one hand on the frame and brow furrowed. He felt Charles' presence behind him, turned and saw the worried expression on his face. Together, they watched the boy disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OMIGOD. So, how long has it been? I'm so sorry for the delay, but as I have mentioned before, I have been extremely busy this term and the only reason I updated was because I'm on holiday right now. I'll admit it was slightly rushed, and (I don't know how evident it is) and in some sections I was filled with vigour and others I just wanted to throw my laptop against a wall. So, I hope the long wait hasn't completely extinguished the climax and if it has, I'm so sorry. PLEASE leave your thoughts and as always, many thanks to the Guest reviewer, CSIGetteBlue and Druid Archer, and to all those who favourited and alerted! THANKYOU!<strong>


	26. To Mend What Is Broken

Chapter 26

-To Mend What Is Broken-

* * *

><p>Xavier Mansion spanned over an immense one hundred and fifty acres, but given that nothing bordered it, it gave the impression of an even larger place. Preened and pruned to perfection, every detail had been chosen with a meticulous and careful eye. Large oaks presided towards the borders, sown close together with their feet covered with bright pink hyacinths and canary yellow daffodils; beyond that lay a small patch of budding nightshades intertwined with imperial wolfsbanes.<p>

Alex Summers had always found that amusing, the way in which most flowering plants in the Xavier garden had not been placed beside each other according to pigment or physical symmetry (the seemly coordination of colours was a happy coincidence, according to Charles) but by their biological properties. Hyacinths and daffodils for instance, despite their marked corporeal differences, both belonged to the same family of lily; whilst nightshades and wolfsbanes were notorious for their poisonous properties. It amused Alex because even in a place such as this, where differences and changes between individuals were to be encouraged but allowed to exist in an integrated and harmonious manner, not even the plants had been able to avoid this most simple form of categorization.

But it was a small piece of paradise, Alex often thought, and one that had passed through the hands of five generations of Xaviers. Nothing had changed, according to Charles, since Great-Great Grandfather Xavier had first erected the mansion. All that stood before Alex now had been exactly where it was all those years ago.

And it made Alex think. It made wonder about life, the world, and the essentially finite nature of all mortals. These flowers, these trees, these bricks-these have stood the test of time, in the face of so many challenges and it would seem, would continue to do so for many years to come.

But what of Alex Summers? Where would he be in twenty, thirty, forty years time? Dead? Breathing? Would he die in battle, trying to create a world in which both humans and mutants could coexist harmoniously? Would he live to see the assimilation between mutant and mortal children, neither in fear of the other? Married, perhaps? With children, or even grandchildren? What of Elsa? Would she by his side, or some faceless girl?

Elsa occupied his thoughts, even if she did not think of him. He questioned his..._affections _for her (he now felt that his proclamation of love had been far too early, if not infantile. Even if it was real) and wondered if she had actually cared for him at all, whether or not he had just been a means to escape the horror of Warren had done. Elsa was practically catatonic, Charles had informed the others and that was the good professor's way of explaining her closed off behaviour, but Alex could not help but feel a little personally persecuted by his girlfriend. She had been distant before, now she might as well be on another planet. Elsa now stayed in Raven's room, waiting for the blood and gore to be removed from the walls of her own.

He could not find her during the day, and in the evening when he finally managed to drag himself away from training or something menial errand, Raven was quick to inform that he could not possibly see Elsa now that she was sleeping.

And so, often two weeks had passed since Lewis' demise and whilst Raven assured Alex that Elsa was improving with each day, a painful and impenetrable barrier had been erected between the two young lovers.

Alex sighed. He was young, and of course, all the downs of his adolescent life were supposed to feel like the end of the world. But this really did feel like a relationship apocalypse. He closed his eyes, suddenly realising how close he was to tears; these couple of weeks had been hard on him too.

He remained like this for a while and was surprised to see that when he opened his eyes, Erik stood before him.

'The man is as slippery as a snake,' Alex thought angrily.

Erik smiled slowly, a cold and smug one, but a smile nonetheless. It made Alex wonder if telepathy was nothing more than a small extension of good intuition. The older man tossed a deep red apple in his hands, flicking it high into the air before ensnaring it between his fingers.

"Erik," mumbled Alex, averting his eyes.

"Alex," returned Erik, seating himself beside the young man.

Alex fidgeted. Erik was tolerable at the best of times, but it was still considerable awkward having the man so close to him.

"You know, I don't think I've seen you eat a single thing all day," smiled Erik, tapping Alex on the shoulder.

"Why the sudden concern?" snapped Alex, his nostrils flaring, "I don't think you've ever battered so much as an eyelid when it comes to me."

"Temper, temper," tutted Erik. He took a bite out of his apple. A dribble of juice seeped out of the corner of his mouth, before he casually wiped it away with his sleeve. "I don't know what Elsa sees in you."

"What do you want, Erik?" sighed Alex, too tired to play the role of detective.

Erik paused, furrowing his brow as if he were thinking deeply about what he was about to say next. When he finally spoke, the words came out uncertain and a little doubtful.

"I don't know much about...young...young love," he stuttered, something Alex realised he had never seen Erik do, "I've never really met anyone..." He paused again. "

I don't really understand couple problems and differences...but being in a relationship, doesn't that mean you've found your other half?"

It was Alex's turn to stutter, only now registering the infliction in Erik's words. Of course, the older man had asked questions before, but it had always been done in anticipation of the answer he had already formulated, a means of cementing what he already knew.

This sounded more like a child enquiring the origins of babies.

"I don't…I don't know..." muttered Alex, blonde brow furrowed. He felt a little flustered.

Erik instantly smiled, seemingly taking confidence from Alex's lack of it. He sat up straight, and took another bite of his apple.

"And having said that," he said, his mouth a little full, "Isn't the point of a relationship to mend the other half when it's broken; how else do you mean to function as a whole?"

Alex shot up from his seat, hands behind his back as he paced before Erik. It seemed to him that everybody had boundless reserves of sympathy, but none for him. He threw his hands up into the air, his words escaping his lips like a hiss.

"I've tried, ok? I've tried. But I can't get near her anymore."

Erik did not immediately respond, chewing on his piece of apple quietly. He looked up slowly to Alex.

"Can't, or you won't?" He asked gravely. Alex blinked several times. What exactly was Erik getting at?

"I saw you that night, Summers. I saw you. And I don't think I'll ever be able to forget it." Erik crinkled his nose and held it in the air. "Pure disgust."

Alex began to shake his head vigorously, holding his hands up in protest.

"I'm not...I wasn't...I won't..."

But he could see the lack of understanding in Erik's face, a void empty of any comprehension of the inner workings of his mind. Alex fell back into his seat and held his head in his hands. Without much realisation, small salty tears left his eyes and ran freely down his cheeks.

"I've fallen in love with a monster, Erik." He whispered dispiritedly. He rubbed his temples, feeling every muscle in his throat tighten. He looked to Erik briefly, startled by the man's expression. It was as if every fibre of his being had been set on fire.

"You saw it yourself!" Alex protested, wiping away his tears. "You saw what she'd done to Worthington! You saw! There was _nothing _left!"

Erik crossed his arms over his burly chest, eyes glittering with malice.

"It's part of her mutation, it's part of who she is."

Alex rolled his eyes inwardly; how many times would he have to stand to hear this?

"That is-"

Erik held up his hand to silence Alex, shaking his head as he did.

"I've not been in many relationships, I've told you that," He said, almost through gritted teeth. "I chose to stay away. But what I have learnt is that part of being with someone means that you do whatever you can to protect him or her. Elsa did what she had done because she was in grave peril. She had no other choice; she had been faced with a danger she should have been kept away from."

Alex frowned.

"So it's my fault?"

Erik sighed, clearly exasperated by Alex's lack of comprehension.

"As her…as her…you love her." He said finally, voice heavy with bitter disapproval. "And if you really do love her, then you'll make sure that she will never have to face something like that again. That'll she never have to experience such pain and agony ever again. That she'll never have to see those monsters again, even if they're _inside_ her."

He twitched his nose. "And if not for her, then make sure_ you'll_ never have to see that monster again."

"You don't understand." Alex said quietly. "I've done terrible things, Erik. I've destroyed lives. I'm a monster too."

Erik smirked. "Those with like minds-"

"Don't make a joke out of this!"

Erik fell silent. He sighed deeply, and very tentatively, placed his hand upon Alex's shoulder. Alex winced inwardly at the alien sensation of Erik's skin against his own.

"Lacey's death was not your fault," Erik said softly, "You did what you had to do, what the right thing was to do."

"It's not that simple." Alex returned quickly.

"It is. It's either right, or it's wrong."

Alex looked into Erik's bright blue eyes, realising that he didn't know the man very well despite the time they had been working together. What Erik had always displayed as a cool and calm disposition, Alex had assumed was a well-executed cover for arrogance and self-claimed aloofness. But what he saw right that moment, was something far different; fragility. Erik's twisted moral compass was nothing more than the product of a lifetime of suffering under those who had not had one.

Silence passed between the two, the first time in a long while in which is had been filled with new found empathy for the other, rather than strain or conflict.

Erik got up onto his feet. He placed his hand inside the pocket of trousers and began to fish for something. He finally pulled out a velvet-cloth covered object and wordlessly handed it to Alex. Alex took it without question, but in confusion.

Hesitantly, he pulled back the cloth.

It was a watch. It's face was smashed and the strap shredded, the inner cogs and coils spread out just like Lewis' innards had, but it was still a watch nonetheless. Alex's breath caught in his throat.

"This is..."

It was Elsa's watch, the one her father had given her. Alex could remember that it was the first and only thing she had spoken of after her encounter with Lewis. He could remember her abject horror in realising that it was gone.

"Yes. I found it that night, shattered upon the floor," said Erik, rubbing his nose.

"What do you want me to do with it?" asked Alex, running his finger along the broken frame.

Erik smiled, small but genuine.

"Fix it."

* * *

><p>Charles leaned over his balcony, arms resting on the cold stone as he silently cursed the near freezing conditions. Clean crisp air filled his lungs, coursing through his body and, however slight it was, alleviating his spirits.<p>

But he sighed, hung his head with exhaustion. Whatever the air could do, it could not rid of the strange feeling that had devoured him.

It had been a strange two weeks; the entire household had never been more occupied, and yet so empty. It was as if a spell had been cast upon the young mutants, all in a state of stasis following that dreadful night. Not even Sean could muster the energy to exude his usual cheeriness. Moira had managed to clean up the aftermath, somehow convincing her colleagues to pull back on their investigations into Lewis Worthington, that the activities of the Russians and more importantly Shaw, should be occupying their time.

But still, it lingered.

He had been watching Erik and Alex below, watching the two who usually went out of their way to avoid the other, sitting beside each in mutual agreement. They had been talking about perhaps the only thing they truly had in common; Elsa.

Elsa had become a completely different person over the past couple weeks, less the quietly self-assured and good natured girl he had met, and more the persona they had encountered in their sessions.

Valkyrie had manifested that night, and it seemed that it still haunted her. She did not speak, but her eyes glittered with certain malice and a certain wickedness that concerned Charles every day. He wondered if she could astral project, that she had lost her true spirit somewhere in the realm of unclaimed spirits that night.

But it was a far stretch, a way to excuse her reclusion.

He felt movement to his left, and was pleased to Moira standing at his side, both hands clutching a steaming cup of coffee each. She handed it to him.

"Thank-you," smiled Charles, enjoying the surge of warmth it brought his fingers.

"How is she?" Moira asked quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I honestly don't know," sniffed Charles, shrugging his shoulders. He realised he hadn't felt so perplexed in a long while. "Not only does she refuse to speak to anyone, let alone myself, but she's learnt to _completely_ barricade me from her mind. And might I add, her defences are next to impenetrable."

He held the cup to his lips but could not bring himself to drink.

"Student excels the teacher," laughed Moira quietly.

Charles turned and smiled. "Yes."

Moira placed her coffee upon the balcony, tying her short hair into a pony tail with her free hands. She shuffled a little and Charles was quietly pleased her feel her arm against his own.

"This whole place is quiet these days," she murmured, sipping on her coffee as she looked up and around her.

"Everyone's felt the effects far more than...well, far more than any of us could have realised," said Charles.

Moira turned to him.

"Are _you_ ok?"

Charles ran a hand through his copper hair. "I'm always telling Elsa that violence is never the answer, which is why I'm persistent in keeping Valkyrie under a lock and key. But if she hadn't had turned, if she hadn't utilized Valkyrie that night...I can't imagine she'd still be here."

"You feel like you're contradicting your values?" asked Moira.

"For lack of a better term, yes."

"It was an extraordinary circumstance, Charles, none of us could ever have expected it. She needed to protect herself." She placed her hand on Charles' arm. "She's a good girl,"

Charles smiled at her words, but they were no more comforting than anything else he had heard from the others. There was a marked difference in Elsa, her spirit had finally been broken and it seemed that the damage was irrevocable.

* * *

><p>Leakey Crescent had, over the many years of its existence, developed a particular and distinctive personality, clear and immediately recognizable and very much onomatopoeic in nature. Its cul-de-sac configuration had created an enclosed, secluded environment for its residents, who could be forgiven for believing that the world did not extend past the mouth of the quaint street.<p>

Each Californian bungalow, however aesthetically distinct and individual as the people who occupied them, had been built to mirror the other in technical structure. Three hard oak steps leading to the porch, no more and no less, opening to a deck that spanned four metres by one and a half, and a single circular window to provide light for the attic built above. Past this, each home took on its own personality and form.

And the charming, English cottage-esque number seven that had once been the centre of Leakey Crescent, was now gone. The pretty lilacs and climbing jasmines were long dead; the high dome like windows now nothing more than rubble and ash.

Number seven was nothing more than a dark and lifeless patch, a square plot of scorched earth and the burnt remains of what had once been a home. A home once brightly lit with the laughter of Tobias and Marie Muller.

At least, that is what he told himself. He always made little stories like these, whenever he was called to perform a post-incident report. When there were nothing left but burnt remains, all ash and destruction, he made little worlds with his mind filled with nothing less than nothing more than the most extravagant and grandeur pieces of his imagination.

It was all Atticus Quire could do, given the grim reality of his job. Whilst his cousin in Ohio sold new and innovative contraptions each week, whilst his kid sister in Maryland made and sold home-made goat's cheese, he was stuck with this.

Constantly sifting through rubble and dead dreams, Atticus was constantly reminded of just how fragile human life was. How easily the light could be extinguished.

The money, he reminded himself, that's why I do it. It is why he does the job no one else will take, why they pay him a sum for an occupation not even the devil would sell his soul for.

He passed under the police tape, carrying his equipment in his right hand. He set it the box down, pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and began to set to work. He came across the remnants of a coffee table, the twisted barbs of photo-frame with the charred pieces of the photograph still inside. He found a few pots and pans, a blackened Christmas bauble, and what broke his heart the most, broken rattle.

He had been told that the Mullers had been expecting a child, and naturally, the couple must have been preparing like any other couple would have done. No doubt they had renovated a spare room, replacing adult chairs and tables with a child's bassinet or a shelf filled with a little one's toys.

Now that was gone too.

Atticus placed the rattle back into its place and moved on, leaving the heaviness there. As he delved further in, he suddenly became aware of a deep, vibration.

He could feel the effects of it, the deep pulsation echoing in his heart. He furrowed his brow, the vibrations increasing as he seemed to be edging closer to the source. Under a particularly big pile of rubble, he saw glow of red-orange light.

He felt his heart pounding in his chest, the tiny muscles struggling to work. What in the seven hells was this?

Wincing, he peeled back the debris. And for a moment, his heart stopped beating.

It was a baby. Cocooned in a blanket of a red-orange force, a naked babe lay before him at his feet. Nothing seemed to affect the child, the ruins of the home sat idly beside him, the rain that had begun to pour down simply bounced off. A little boy, from what he could tell at closer inspection.

Despite the madness of the situation, Atticus felt his heart warm at the sight of the little tyke smiling in his dreams.

His body acting before his mind, his arms began to stretch out towards the child. As soon as his fingers made contact with the cocoon, it disintegrated. The child opened his eyes and instantly began to wail, immensely disturbed from the sudden onslaught of rain.

Atticus quickly scooped up the child and wrapped him in his coat, holding the little boy close to his heart.

The child looked up into Atticus' eyes, bright emerald meeting grey and his wailing began to wane. He didn't know who this child was, who he belonged to, or how on earth he had lived under this wreckage for so long, but Atticus had never felt more protective of a being other than himself than right this moment.

And even if they were standing in the middle of a crime scene, slowly being drenched in rain, cold and shaking, the world could not touch. Atticus instantly felt the child warming to him, already becoming a part of him. He could not explain this connection, this sudden rush of affection for this nameless infant but it was there, and Atticus had never felt surer and more certain of his role on earth.

This was fated he felt, he was destined to father this child. To mend this little broken one.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey again! My god, it's been so long since I updated! But you must understand, my lovely readers, that I have been incredibly busy with school. Anyway, that last bit was a bit weird wasn't it? <strong>

**But seriously, 95 reviews?! I don't think even my wildest dreams that it would ever accumulate to such a number! **Thank you so much, my wondorous readers, for all your support and your appreciation for this story!**! Also, I just checked my timeline for Never Again, and I was startled; we're only a few chapters away from the end! Oooooooh. **

**Many thanks to Tushie96, our other lovely Guest reviewer, FanOfFiction22xx, hogwartswonderland, CSIGetteBlue, TARDIS-follower and Druid Archer!**


	27. Nineteen Candles

**AN: So I finally updated, after 2 months. I sincerely apologize for the long wait and I realize that one chapter will simply not make up for my tardiness. I have the next chapter very close to completion and will be putting that up very soon. Thank you to all those who favourited and alerted, and thank you very much to RedPenWriter13, Tushie and Climb The Moutain. Also, thank you very much Alysiana for your review and in answer to your question, Elsa will meet the baby but not any time soon unfortunately. 98 reviews…it's unbelievable and I am incredibly grateful for all the support and love you've all shown for my story! Happy reading!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 27<p>

-Nineteen Candles-

Elsa emerged from her shower with her towel wrapped tightly around her head, though her body still dripping water. She wrapped her robe around her and proceeded down the hall way, rubbing her face vigorously with moisturizing cream as she did.

She had always hated the feeling of dry skin.

The Mansion was relatively quiet today; Charles, Moira and Erik had headed for Langley for a meeting with the Director, Hank had found a breakthrough in development of his 'cure' and was thus holed up in his lab and Alex and Sean had decided to explore the prohibited areas of the Xavier estate, given the Professor was aware and therefore couldn't 'possibly know his big secrets are about to be uncovered.' Elsa, of course, had been quick to point out that Charles was perhaps the most powerful telepath on Earth and Sean had been equally quick to reply that 'Xavier can't get past this brain of steel.'

In any case, it seemed that Elsa was alone in the Mansion, save for Raven.

Elsa quietly opened the door to their room and carefully peeped in; if Raven was sleeping, she did not wish to wake her. But Elsa was surprised to see their room empty.

"Raven?" Elsa called, winching at the moisture between her toes as she walked over to her bed. "Raven?"

Elsa frowned; there was hastily written note on her bed, accompanied by what looked to be one of Raven's dresses. She held it up, marveling at its rakishness. It was of a deep oxblood, with what seemed to be a very short hemline. It had a collar, like that of a turtleneck but an upside down tear shaped hole in the front, revealing a deep plunging neckline. Elsa could imagine this being a part of Raven's collection, but was more than a little shocked to see the tag still attached.

It was a lovely dress, but she simply could not understand what it was for.

Placing the dress back onto the bed, Elsa picked up the note and read aloud, silently cursing at Raven's occasionally ineligible handwriting.

_'We're going out. You and me. I don't care if you don't want to; you're coming with me. Put this on and when you're ready, meet me out the front. And for God's sake, do something with your hair._'-Raven.

* * *

><p>The darkness of the night that engulfed the Mansion was only broken by a few shimmering rays of moonlight, peeping through the high set barred windows. Elsa was painfully aware of the sharp <em>clack!<em> her heeled shoes made with every step, wincing at the booming echo it made with each step.

She stood in the foyer, feeling incredibly isolated. She tugged at the hem of her dress, feeling incredibly silly all dolled up and seemingly nowhere to go.

"Raven?" she called out into the darkness, her voice resounding in the wide space. "Raven?"

Elsa felt the colour rise in her face, realizing more and more that this must have been one of Sean's infantile pranks. She couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to fall for it.

Feeling more than a little upset, Elsa was just about to turn on her heel and head back to her room, before a pair of hands emerged from the darkness and grabbed her from behind.

"ARGH!" Elsa cried, the offending hands quickly twisting her arms into an arm lock. "Who is-let me go!"

She could feel the strength in their arms and the hard surface of their chest against her back. She felt her panic rising, fearing one of Lewis' men had taken it upon himself to exact vengeance.

Elsa kicked out, and was immediately reward with a sharp twist of her arm.

"Keep still," a voice whispered in her ear, "Or your next move might be your last."

Though she couldn't be one hundred percent sure, she was sure she could hear suppressed laughter in their voice.

Before she knew, a blindfold was slipped over eyes and with a single swing, she was thrown over her attacker's shoulder. Elsa winced at every bounce of her body against their shoulder, wondering why no one had come for her.

After what seemed like hours, and with her heart ready to beat out of her chest, they finally placed her down. Elsa was surprised at their gentleness, more so at the grass she could feel beneath her,

She glanced around wildly, though for what reason she wasn't sure why given she couldn't see a damn thing. Elsa could hear the quiet crackle of an open fire, the serene howl of the wind, and more acute than anything, the quiet chatter of numerous voices.

She felt an arm grab her own, hauling her up onto her feet.

"Who-?"

She felt a hand on her back, and heard another voice whisper into her ear.

"Take the blindfold off,"

_Charles? _

Awkwardly fumbling with her blindfold, Elsa quickly pulled off her blindfold. "What on earth…"

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Elsa almost fell back. There before her, all dressed in neat and formal attire, all ties, necklaces and bows, were her friends. They were outside, in among the trees and under the darkness of the night. Tiny lights were strung high in the trees, accompanied by bright balloons which presided over a table of various foods and drinks, and a large brightly decorated chocolate cake.

Nineteen flames flickered in Elsa's eyes.

"What is all this?" asked Elsa, half laughing.

"Your birthday party. Duh." scoffed Sean, emerging from behind her. He was clad in a rather festive full tartan suit, his fiery locks pulled into a neat albeit small ponytail. He grinned his usual wicked smile as he tugged onto the burgundy bow knotted at his neck.

"We've all been a bit preoccupied lately. Most especially you," said Hank, smiling sympathetically. Elsa was quick to note how handsome he looked in his deep navy suit, or perhaps it was the unusual glitter in his eyes. Either way, he looked extremely happy.

"We thought we would lighten the mood," offered Moira, dressed in a flattering emerald dress. "We were thinking of going somewhere, but this seemed far more appropriate"

"Whilst our enemies bear down upon us?" laughed Elsa, crossing her arms over chest.

"Shaw can wait," said Charles, smoothing back his copper hair. He stood beside Erik, both in black, both equally handsome but once again, their stark differences were strikingly obvious.

Charles looked as if he had been lit from within, unable to hide a wide grin and his stance relaxed and at ease. Erik was still as stiff as ever, despite the multicolored party hat which sat lopsided on his head (no doubt Sean's work), but it was clear that the communal happiness had seeped into him a little; he looked much younger.

"Got to admit though, this was a lot easier than it should have been." laughed Raven, looking equally radiant in an orange dress, cutting high above her thighs but sitting high upon her chest. Her blond fringe fell recklessly into her glittering blue eyes. She placed her arm around Elsa's shoulder and gave a quick kiss on the cheek. "Didn't have to worry about keeping it a secret from you."

Elsa flushed, eyes briefly flickering to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex emerge from the darkness. Even in the half light of the moon, the light bouncing off the sharp edges of his angular face, Alex looked ethereally beautiful. His tie was knotted tight to his throat, every crease and line ironed and pressed. It was clear he had taken care with his appearance.

He smiled, nodded once, but did not offer anything more. Elsa felt a terrible pang of sadness; it was she who had caused his distance.

"It helped that you refused to talk to any of us," laughed Sean, breaking her from his thoughts.

"Understandable, of course," offered Charles sympathetically.

"I'm sorry. To all of you," began Elsa, moving out of Raven's grip. She looked around at her group, her family, wondering how she could have been so selfish.

"Coming here meant being a part of something. It meant working together, being united among people like ourselves and I sought to destroy that with my personal matters. You were trying to help and I pushed you away." Elsa glanced briefly at Alex, though she made sure the implication of her words could only be understood by herself and Alex. "I'm so sorry."

A chorus of 'no' and 'don't be ridiculous' followed, but Elsa knew it was purely out of politeness.

"You're just saying that because we've bought you gifts," laughed Raven, the group following suit.

As if suddenly enlightened, Charles turned to the table and plucked a rectangular shape gift and strode back to Elsa.

"Speaking of gifts!" he beamed, "Here."

Elsa gushed, taking the gift into the hands and gently pulling away at the wrapping.

"Charles, you didn't have to…"

" 'Didn't have to', she says." smiled Hank.

In her hands, Elsa held a leather-bound book in her hands, a simple green in hue and clear of obstructing images or messages. At the top, embossed in elegant gold font was 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest', followed by Ken Kesey at the bottom.

"It's quite new; it was published recently," said Charles, scratching his head, "I've not read it myself but from what I've heard, it's gaining quite a momentum."

Elsa beamed, embracing her mentor in a tight hug. "Thank you, Charles."

Without skipping a beat, Sean pushed past and offered his hand to Elsa.

"Now me!" he giggled, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Best gift you'll ever get tonight!"

Tentatively, and more than a little unsure Elsa took his hand. She almost jumped back as she felt a sharp electric current whiz through her arm as soon as she touched his hand. She recoiled instantly, mouth open in shock.

Laughing hysterically, Sean turned up his palm and revealed a tiny buttoned device strapped to his hand.

"Sean!" hissed Moira, arms tightly folded over her chest. Still laughing, Sean produced a large record with the words, 'Chuck Berry Twist' splashed across its cover, accompanied with an array of colours and patterns.

Her remaining gifts came in quick succession, and Elsa beamed at the amount of care and thought had gone into them; a pair of black leather Go-Go boots from Raven and Moira, and a small handmade terrarium from Hank, complete with a tiny green cocoon.

Erik had produced a rather small and unusual gift, one Elsa felt was the most personal of them all. It was a small handmade lion, made of what appeared to be twisted metal though it generally lacked defining details.

"I made it myself." sniffed Erik, pushing the drooping party hat back onto his head.

"With what?" smiled Elsa, marveling at the tiny creation.

"One of Hank's microscopes."

"That was _you_?" gasped Hank, his vulture like brows almost disappearing into his heart. He frowned, almost on the verge of tears. "There's hardly anything left!"

"That was the idea," smiled Erik cruelly.

After the laughter died, with an almost synchronized movement, the group turned to Alex. The boy awkwardly shuffled his feet.

"Well come on, Alex!"

"I-uh…ahem." He rubbed his forehead. "I didn't get you anything, I'm sorry. This was all kinda of short notice-"

Alex raised a hand in surrender as he was cut off by snorts, scoffs and boos. He shook his head, sipping quietly as the others chastised him.

Elsa caught his eye, and was temporarily tempted to read his mind. The lack of a gift was not the problem, just the anxiety of not knowing if he truly had been brought here against his will. The notion that she may have lost him.

Elsa felt a hard lump grow in her throat.

* * *

><p>An hour had passed since they cut Elsa's gluttonous cake, most of the party food had been consumed and all were quite inebriated. Elsa had seen Erik drink a few glasses, but his drunkenness manifested into quiet seclusion rather than jumping on the table, or skinny dipping in the pond as Sean and Raven had done so.<p>

Elsa herself was lounging lazily on a couch, laboriously heaved from the Mansion out into the open field. She patted her stomach contently; she had eaten a fair of her cake herself.

She smiled as she watched Raven and Sean giggling hysterically upon the ground, rolled over and spread out on the soft grass. Hank stood over them, shaking and bouncing in an attempt to contain his own laughter. Moira and Charles were chatting quietly at the table, completely engrossed in each other. Erik was nowhere to be seen, as was Alex as Elsa was quick to notice.

She felt a terrible emptiness. Alex had, for the most part, avoided her the entire night. He stood for photographs, for the birthday song and the other ceremonial parts of the night but since then, he had disappeared into the shrubbery.

Elsa picked herself up, dusting off her gown, buckling awkwardly as shards of pain shot up through her feet. She hastily pulled off her shoes, carrying them in her hand as she headed for the trees.

She was intent to find him, to apologize, to let him know that he had done nothing wrong.

It was perhaps the early hours of the morning, but the moon still sat high in the glittering black-as-coal sky. Using the light of the moon and the brain waves of Alex's mind as guidance, Elsa waded through the low lying white daisies and violet verbenas. The soft earth squished beneath her feet, working its way around her toes and resting in the crooks between them.

She was so transfixed by the dirt that she hardly noticed the tall solemn figure just a metre before her.

Alex turned to look at her.

"Hey," he smiled, albeit quietly.

"Hey," Elsa returned.

Elsa was stunned at how solemn he looked, how stoic and still; like Erik.

"You look beautiful," he said, taking her hand as she carefully made her way through the violets and honeysuckles.

"You don't scrub so bad yourself." She smiled, brushing herself off as she stood beside him. He was starting out into the distance, between a small clearing which offered a glimpse into the world beyond. A moment's silence passed between them.

"So, Charles, Erik and Moira…they never went to Langley, did they?" asked Elsa, to which Alex nodded. "And you and Sean were-"

"Setting all this up," he waved his hand dismissively, perhaps not entirely aware of the magnificent job he had done.

"And Hank-?"

"Oh, Hank was actually busy."

He turned to face her. "I lied, you know."

Elsa frowned; what on earth did he mean?

Alex rummaged into his pocket, finally pulling out a small velvet ruby box. It was wrapped with a single pink ribbon, and small tag attached to it reading, 'Happy Birthday.' He handed it to Elsa, the girl taking the box with both hands.

"As if I'd forget to get you something." He muttered as she pulled the ribbon.

Elsa was more than a little apprehensive. Of course she understood the ridiculousness of the idea, but she was slightly fearful that she would open the box to find a small ring, followed by Alex dropping to his knee.

_Don't be stupid!_

Alex was not the rational type, nor would he consider an eight month relationship worthy of a proposal of marriage. Besides, the box was far too big.

Elsa carefully pushed back the lid, and almost fell back into the violets and honeysuckles in her surprise; her father's watch. There it was, gleaming and glittering in the moonlight, polished and oiled to perfection and far more beautiful than she had ever remembered it to be. She held it close to her ear and marveled at the tiny whirs of the cogs and wheels working in complete synchronization; even the tiny ticking of the second hand sounded rejuvenated.

"Alex…" she gasped, unable to do anything more than gape like a fish, "I thought…I thought I'd lost this that night! I-I…when? _How_…?"

"I found it." Alex said simply, though he sounded a little unsure. "But it was broken, and, uh, I didn't think you'd want to see it all smashed and everything. So I went into town, and I had it fix-."

Before Alex could finish, Elsa threw herself at him. Her arms were tightly wrapped around him, her hands tightly clutching the precious watch.

"Thank you!" she breathed, planting frantic kisses all over his face. "Thank you!"

Before he could do anything, Elsa kissed him. She kissed him with more passion and power than she had ever done. And much to her joy, Alex did the same. It was as if all the tension, all the pain, the distance and all the unspoken words between them came rushing forth into this kiss and colliding in complete harmony.

Elsa finally pulled apart from him, resting her forehead against his own. She felt so soothed by his hand on her back.

"I'm sorry, for how I've been," she breathed, her eyes still closed. "So..so-"

"Bitchy?"

Elsa looked up, smiled apologetically.

"For lack of a better term,"

They laughed, but it was hardly out of humor.

"I should have tried harder to help you," began Alex, kissing her again, "Helped you ease your pain, take it from-"

"No, Alex, no," gushed Elsa, shaking her head as she placed her fingers upon his lips to silence him. "You weren't the problem, I was."

Alex pulled her close again, resting his head the crook of her shoulder. Elsa had never felt so connected to someone, not like this anyway. She felt so strong, so rejuvenated by his presence.

Her cheek against his, she quickly kissed him and whispered in his ear.

"I love you."


	28. Wars of the Heart

Chapter 28

-Wars of the Heart-

* * *

><p><em>'A pity beyond all telling, is hid in the heart of love.'<em>- W.B. Yeats

* * *

><p>-2 Months Later-<p>

"…It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile crossing the embargo line that surrounds Cuba as an attack, by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union."

It took perhaps a moment for the mutants to fully comprehend what exactly had been expressed by the President. War had been declared. A war not one of whizzing bullets or high flying bombs where fighting required face-to-face combat, but of weapons that had the power to destroy not only those living now but the many generations to come.

As Elsa looked around her friends, she became painfully aware of the gravity of their situation. The brief happiness and alleviation from their responsibilities her birthday had brought, and all the little things in-between, was now clearly gone. The bubble had been burst, the fantasy dead, life and all its pain had returned.

"That's where we'll find Shaw," said Erik, pointing at the television with a small handgun. Elsa could not help but wince at the realization that Erik holding a gun seemed as natural to her as a fish in the sea.

"How do you know?" asked Alex.

Charles sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"Two super powers facing off and he wants to start World War three; he won't leave anything to chance." said Charles solemnly, his eyes glued to the television.

"So much for diplomacy," Erik chuckled sardonically. He stowed the gun into the pouch of his jumper. "I suggest you all get a good night's sleep."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the living room, and slowly and solemnly, the others followed suit until only Alex and Elsa were left.

Elsa sunk unto the arm of the sofa, swinging her legs idly over the side. She ran her fingers through her hair, gently running them along the misshapen scar towards her ear. She couldn't remember getting she but she could onlassume me it was Lewis' work.

Alex sat down across from her, stroking the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

"What is it? What's wrong?" He held her chin between his fingers. "Hmm?"

Elsa sighed, training her eyes on her feet. She could not help but marvel at how blistered her toes had become.

"Are we doing the right thing?" she asked him, quietly. It was more a question for herself.

"What do you mean?"

Elsa looked up at him.

"Preventing nuclear war?"

Alex took back his hand and leant back. His brow was furrowed, his blues searching her brown ones.

"What? Elsa, of course-"

"Protecting the humans?" Elsa interrupted him, twisting her fingers in her lap.

"That too," Alex said, his tone alarmingly condescending. Elsa felt rather belittled; it was as if he were talking to a child.

"The actions of a few don't reflect-"

" 'The actions of a few'?" Elsa repeated, jumping up to her feet. She crossed her arms over her chest, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Like the few who murdered my family? Like the few who doused Irene Adler with acid, or set my uncle and aunt alight? Like the few who slaughtered six million of Erik's people?"

Alex took to his feet, pulling himself up to his full height. Elsa took a few steps back, suddenly intimidated.

He sighed, one hand tangled in his hair.

"Lewis was truly acting alone on both occasions, Irene was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," He said, "and as for Erik…well, there's nothing I can say to justify it only that Man is capable of doing terrible things to each other and that was, thank fully, the worst it'll ever be."

"Do you really think after tomorrow, they'll embrace us?" asked Elsa venomously. "They'll welcome us with open arms and accept us into their society?"

"Maybe they will, maybe they won't." Alex shrugged. "But we need to make sure that _we're_ doing the right thing. They can ridicule us, beat us, or even murder us but doing the same to them doesn't make us better. It makes us worse, Elsa."

"There'll come a day when you'll throw those values against a wall, Alex," chuckled Elsa.

Alex smiled. "Perhaps. But right now, this is where I stand."

It took a moment before Elsa sat back down again. She felt as if the fire within her had been doused a little, but it did not change much. Her family was still dead, Irene was still blind and Erik was still the most damaged man she had ever met.

Perhaps Alex really was her equal; who else could quell her so quickly like this? Arguments with Warren resulted in days of silence and ill-will; they never sought compromise or middle ground and Elsa had resented the idea of caving into someone simply because she loved them. And she did so so willingly with Alex.

But she could not keep the resentment out of her voice.

"You see the good in everyone, Alex." She said quietly.

Alex sighed, sitting beside her and resting his chin against her shoulder. "I should be saying the exact opposite though, shouldn't I?"

Elsa looked at him. "Your guilt outweighs your anger."

Alex wrapped his arm around her shoulder, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"You're the doing the right thing, Elsa, trust me. You're here now, this is your purpose."

The notion was ridiculous, the idea rather senseless. Being a part of something, rather than acting alone, did not make it more or less right. She had literally got up and left England and had not looked back since. She hadn't had time to think about whether what she was doing was right or wrong. Charles and Erik had offered a chance at solidarity, a means of being among those who understood and she had jumped at the opportunity.

What was her purpose? At nineteen years of age what was her purpose on Earth?

She snuggled beside Alex, feeling his arm tightening around her as she did. It was strange how quickly their brief spat had evaporated.

"It's strange, isn't it?" she said quietly." How this is all coming together?"

"Yeah."

"Makes you think about that…that other life."

Alex pulled away, holding her out as she stared at her bemusedly. "What do you mean?"

Elsa immediately felt her cheeks flush. She wasn't too sure what she meant, and she was afraid her thoughts would not be able to translate so fluently into words

"The-the road your other-self went down. Like, what life might have been like."

It was a tiny idea, a fantasy in many ways that Elsa had entertained for a while. In her mind, there was two of her and both were living separate lives; the one she was living now and the one she might have had. Alongside her, growing as she did, the other Elsa lived the life she had always thought she was going to have. The other Elsa was sitting under the large oak in the Worthington garden, watching as her little brother played happily in the field beyond, tumbling and somersaulting in the dewy grass. Klaus had learnt to overcome his fear of the outside and was bathing in the bright sun. Mum and Dad were there, and Rolf was smiling happily with a pretty young girl on his arm.

And Warren was there too, arm around her and lips against her hair.

These were the people she had loved her entire life and in this tiny bubble, they were safe and sound. It was a means of coping for her, especially in the dead of night when she woke sweating and her heart beating furiously from her nightmares.

"Do you still think about him?" Alex's question was sudden and a little hesitant.

"Who?" Elsa asked absently, not entirely detached from her thoughts.

"…Warren."

Elsa looked up at him.

"You don't trust me." she frowned.

"No, no! It's just… You would have been with him, if you hadn't-" Alex hung his head. He sniffed. "Do you think about what he's doing…what he's…? Do you still love him?"

Elsa detangled herself from Alex's arms, pulling herself onto her feet. She brushed herself off. "You're being incredibly persistent; do you want me to say yes?"

She simply could not keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"No. I…People don't…I don't…" Alex stuttered, his cheeks as bright as a tomato.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nah, forget it."

Elsa remained where she was; she certainly was not going to forget it.

Alex looked up at her, looking more and more lost by the second. "I don't think, I don't think…Elsa, I'm not very good at relationships. I get if you still feel…"

Alex sunk back into his seat, chin rested against his chest and looking utterly deflated. Elsa could not help but feel sorry for him, especially when she remembered how he had been like when they first met. Quiet, if not a little fearless, detached and completely immune from the world.

Look at what she had done to him.

Elsa got down onto her knees in front of him, taking his hands into her own.

"Alex, I need you to understand what I'm saying, and understand very clearly. There is a part of my heart that will always belong to Warren. Always." Elsa paused. "But there's another part that…that belongs to you."

Alex slowly looked up, a small smile spreading across his handsome face.

"I loved Warren, yes, and a part of me always will." Elsa continued, smiling herself. "But it's dead, Alex. It's there, but it's gone. It died the night he killed me, but it still lingers. Does that make sense?"

Alex nodded.

"What I feel for you…it's unlike anything I've ever felt." Elsa ran her fingers absently along Alex's knuckles, feeling the hard bone and the power that lay beneath them. "I love _you_, Alex Summers."

There was a pause before, in one quick motion, Alex swept Elsa off the floor and into her lap. Elsa could not help but giggle. Alex held her, every line of her body matched with his.

"And as for what he's doing right now, he's probably contemplating married life."

"He's married?" Alex asked, "Isn't he your age?" It was news to him; how old was this guy, to be married now?

"No," Elsa shook her head, "Warren is two years older than I am."

"Are you…are you ok, with that?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"With him being older?"

"With him being married." Alex laughed.

There was a long pause, as if she was carefully choosing her words. Finally, Elsa shrugged her shoulders, pouting her lip dismissively. "It stung a little, given how quickly he moved on."

Smiling, she gave Alex a quick peck. "But I've moved on too."

* * *

><p>The last remnants of the setting sun flickered luminously over the Banbury fields, shards of bright orange and red light colouring the usually dull grey skies. Despite the spectacular display of ethereal and unearthly beauty above, below was quite different. A particularly wild storm had left its mark all in the shape of sullied and muddied earth, split branches and bright green saplings which were now nothing more than a sad and twisted mess. Apparently there was a light breeze, but its presence was marked by nothing more than the slight movement of the trees; its usual howl was absent.<p>

Cynthia Worthington watched from within Warren's bedroom, seated right beside the grand oval window and her cheek pressed against the cool, frosty glass.

It was times like these, where even in a house so magnificently large and she so terribly lonely, that she truly hated Banbury. She had done so in her adolescence because she had been frightfully bored of its dullness, its predictability. She had long for the flashy, excitable life London offered, where one would attend innumerable parties and social functions, surrounded by dapper young men with smiles that glinted like diamonds; where she would be constantly updated with the latest fashions and trends; where the continuous noise and bright light would fill the darkness of her soul; where her thoughts did not have the opportunity to echo so loudly.

And now as a young woman, she hated Banbury even more because its vast and empty landscape reflected upon her own life so accurately.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and instantly, she swabbed it away. She shook her head and hopped up from her seat, pulling her loose golden tresses into a bun.

_Stop it!_ She thought to herself. _Stop crying! What good will it do?_

But what else did she had left?

Here she was, eighteen years of age and married, living in a house she could not live in and bearing the name of man who acknowledged her only in the mornings, and if she were lucky, very late in the evenings.

She understood how busy Warren was; being a second year medical student and de facto chief supervisor of his father's laboratories and other minor investments was no easy task. But was it so necessary, Cynthia often thought, to stay up to eleven in the evening at Worthington Laboratories when older, far more learned men had already been employed to run it? Or was it so hard for a man who could want for nothing to simply take a day off university and spend it instead with his wife?

Of course it is, Cynthia thought bitterly and almost automatically.

He did not love her; it was as simple as that. Why should he accommodate her? His heart belonged to someone else and no matter how hard Cynthia had tried, she could not sway him.

She was an imposter to Warren, and though the serving staff would not say it, she could see in their eyes that they thought it too.

Cynthia could remember the night of her wedding, arriving at Worthington Manor still in her gown and still red from all the dancing and frivolity, and for the most part, still smiling. She could remember one of the maids asking Warren if he would like for the Manor to be empty for the night? And as if it had happened yesterday, Cynthia could remember how Warren had so immediately and almost humorously dismissed the idea.

She had not spent a night with him since their wedding day; whenever her friends politely enquired, she pretended that they had consummated their marriage when in reality, she had not even seen Warren's bare chest.

Even now, they slept in separate rooms. Which was good in a sense; at least Warren did not have to witness her crying herself to sleep every evening.

She looked around Warren's bedroom, with both sadness and amusement; it was still very much the personal chambers of a teenage boy. Large printed photographs of George Best hung in varying positions along the back wall, the football great caught in various moments of sporting glory. A long emerald and ruby school House banner was slung from one corner of his study desk to another, with little plastic flag paper weights that read '_ETON_' holding the tips down.

Cynthia could remember how reverently he had insisted to his father that he should remain in his room, rather than move into another one to be shared with her.

'This marriage doesn't change anything.'

Upon a large and ornate desk, sat a copious number of silver framed photographs of varying size and Cynthia realized that she had never really examined them properly.

They were mostly family shots; his frightful father, his poor mother, school friends and extended family members. And more than a few, contained a pretty black haired girl and in each, she looked older than she did in the last one.

Cynthia quickly averted her eyes, already feeling a hard lump in her throat and was shocked to see their wedding photo staring back at her. There was no colour of course; they were nothing but various shades of grey. But what startled Cynthia was that both she and Warren were smiling-

There was sudden and loud creak, and Cynthia quickly turned round. Warren bundled through the door, still clad in his evening coat and his grey scarf wrapped tightly around his throat. He seemed, at first, not to have realized that he was not alone and promptly began removing his clothing.

Cynthia stood awkwardly, half silenced by fear and half by desire as she watched Warren undress himself, humming as he did. He did not get very far, but feeling that she could not stand the embarrassment of seeing him bare, she announced herself by coughing just as he was about to remove his shirt.

"What-?" Warren almost fell back. "Good heavens, Cynthia! How long have you been standing there?" He placed his hands on his hips, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

"A minute or two," Cynthia managed to say, shocked by the croakiness of her voice. Her mouth was drying and she could feel her heart beginning to beat furiously. She had never been so nervous, frightened, subdued or out of place her whole life; why did he have this effect on her?

"I got home." Warren muttered, clearly unable to stand the silence.

"So I see." Cynthia chuckled dryly.

The two stood awkwardly for a moment more, both unable to completely look each other in the eye. They were united by name and convention, but they were truly nothing more than strangers at a party.

Finally, Warren shook his head and began remove various files and folders from his brief case, seemingly overcome by his discomfort.

"What were you doing in my room?" he asked absently, his back to her. Cynthia noticed there was nothing accusatory in his voice; she hadn't done anything wrong yet.

"I can see a lot more of...of Banbury through your window. So..." She muttered quietly, twirling a loose lock of her hair between her fingers. She sat down on his desk chair, trying her best to shrug off her uneasiness.

"How was your day?" she asked timidly.

"Good, good. I met a friend of my father's today." Warren turned to look at her. "Bolivar Trask. Do you know of him?"

Cynthia could vaguely remember the name, perhaps from eavesdropping upon her father's business conversations or a random guest from a dinner party; for some reason an unnaturally small man springing to her mind. Nevertheless, she shook her head.

"Well, the man has interests in robotics, which is a waste of time if you ask me; it'll never take off. Tiny fellow. Big ambitions, though."Warren chuckled. He placed his hands on his hips. "And apparently, so is my father; did you know he's invested £40,000 in Trask's ventures?"

Cynthia knew Worthington Senior had plenty of extra curricular activities; the whole town knew. But what they were exactly, or why he did them, only he knew.

Besides, she had no interest in them. Her marriage, or rather lack of one, was her number one concern and Warren's complete dismissal of it quietly enraged her. Of course, Warren was not her first choice of spouse but she understood the basic principles which underpinned her society. Marrying only those who could equal or better you in social rank was paramount and given Warren had grown up as she had; she found it insulting that he sulked for the daughter of poor German-descent imposters. And though she felt hopeless and silly for thinking it, she loved him a little.

"I was just looking at your photos." The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think about them.

Warren stilled, every muscle in his body clenching.

"Oh?" he asked, but the cheerfulness in his voice was gone.

She picked up the photograph, a rather recent one, of Warren and the black haired girl. They were arm in arm, the smiles on their faces indicating they had been snapped mid-laughter.

"Who is this?" Cynthia asked casually, desperate to keep the shrillness out of her voice.

Of course she knew the girl in the picture; she had known Elsa her whole life. They had been born on the same day, had lived their entire lives in mutual displeasure of each other and yet, they had been destined to love the same man.

Warren took one quick glance at the photograph, loosening his tie as he did.

"A friend," he mumbled, flinging his tie carelessly onto the floor.

"It's the Muller girl, isn't it?" asked Cynthia quietly, staring intently at her fingers.

"If you knew who she was, why did you bother asking?" Warren asked, his tone icily cold and looking at her full in the face. He was standing over her, arms crossed over his broad chest.

For a moment, Cynthia was silenced. But once she had started, she couldn't stop.

"Do you know where she is?"

He leaned down, his face leveled with hers.

"Do you think I'd be standing here if I did?"

He spoke with such malevolence in his voice, that Cynthia closed her eyes the way a child hides their face from the monsters beneath their beds. His hot breaths warmed her already flushed skin, her heart beating rapidly. Finally, Cynthia looked up and met Warren's eyes, frightened by the fire within them.

But seeing her so, his face softened and his frown turned into an apologetic smile. He sat down in a seat across from her, cradling his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry." He sighed.

"Your father told me before he left that you might take some time to adjust." Cynthia mumbled unintelligently, the words tumbling out her mouth in a jumbled carnage of destruction. " It's alright. I'll wait."

_What are you doing? Stop! _

Warren rose to his feet. "Wait for what, Cynthia?"

Cynthia had never felt smaller in her life, never less powerful than she did at this moment. She was at the mercy of a man both loving and cold, of both the best and worst person in the world. She loved him, even if it were only the saplings of a budding love, couldn't he see that? Couldn't he _feel_ that?

"For you to love me."

A great silence filled the room, the intensity between wife and husband at an all time climax.

"What?" Warren finally managed to say.

"Well, I just thought…now that you've-"

"Spit it out, Cynthia."

"Well, now that you're _married_ to me-"

"You thought I'd get down on my knees and declare my love for you?"

Cynthia instantly stood up, for reasons that were unbeknownst even to her, tears brimming in her eyes. Warren stood but a metre away, chest heaving, his face red, his jaw clenched. He began to head for the door.

"No, no!" cried Cynthia, her arms stretched out before her. She sunk back into her seat, completely and utterly deflated. "But it's been so long, Warren, surely you're-"

"I didn't marry you for love, Cynthia! I can't declare what doesn't exist! I married you because my father told me to," shrieked Warren, the laughing youth from the photograph completely gone. His booming voice bounced off the walls, crashing unceremoniously into her ears. She had never seen him so angry.

"Surely you knew that?"

Cynthia sobbed, unable to control herself. "Why are you-?"

"Why such high hopes?" asked Warren, half-snarling half-pleading.

In his anger, Warren kicked over a wooden stool and Cynthia could do nothing but jump back in fright. The stool split instantly.

Running his hands wildly through his hands, Warren faced her. But his voice was surprisingly subdued. "The only thing my father was concerned about was continuing his line, keeping the 'blood pure' as it was and like everything else in my life, I've always been the puppet and he the puppeteer."

"Then he'll be sorely disappointed when he returns," Cynthia quipped, her nerve starting to find resolve.

"And why's that?"

"I can't-I can't have children. I never…I never matured." She looked to him. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why should I be angry with you?" Warren asked cruelly, "Propagating the Worthington line was my father's concern, not mine."

"I've always wanted children." Cynthia said firmly through her tears.

"I'll get you one," said Warren casually, the redness of his face slowly dying. "There are plenty of children abandoned every year."

Cynthia could not believe how quickly the situation had been pacified. How quickly the conversation had turned.

"Didn't you ever want-?"

"My own?" asked Warren, eyes glinting with malice. He took a few steps towards her, so close now he was but a few inches from her face. "Yes. But with Elsa. I wanted Elsa from the moment I met her."

Cynthia unraveled at his words, covering her face with her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her shoulders shook violently, her chest tightening, her breath shortening with each inhalation; she feared she would die.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her, a head leaning against her own. She opened her eyes and found that her face was buried in Warren's shirt, her body moving in synch with each heave of his chest.

He held her tightly, sighing heavily as she did. He pulled them apart, though still clinging to her and tilted her chin up towards him.

Warren looked so incredibly sad, so broken and Cynthia was shocked to see herself in a similar state, her reflection glinting in his bright blue eyes.

"I am _so _sorry you got dragged into this mess like this," he said, "Despite everything, you've always been my friend and I-I never wanted to do this to anyone, let alone you. I don't-I don't know what my father promised you but please Cynthia, understand what's happened. I can give you anything in the world, anything just you name it. But I…I can't…"

Cynthia chuckled dryly. "You can't give me, you?"

"At least we're friends, yes?" He smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Cynthia felt his lips press against her forehead stroking her hair as he did and she supposed it was his way of pacifying her earlier needs of love and attention. But as he held her, she could feel the ingenuity in his touch, this fraudulent show of affection. She felt empty, and it did not take her long to realize that Warren would never fill the great big hollow hole in her heart.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you so much to Joy-Linn and TARDIS-Follower (I'm glad you did :) )<strong>


	29. Crossroads

Chapter 29

-Crossroads-

Rain fell heavily upon Xavier Mansion, lighting flashing in the distance, and thunder rumbling high above. It was curious, really, given how bright and sunny it had been the day before; everything had changed so quickly.

Yesterday, every living creature had emerged from their homes; birds had twittered happily in the trees, crickets chirping a melodious tune below. Elsa had even seen a family of rabbits hopping happily across the field.

And now, it was nothing but rain and grey clouds.

Elsa was pacing up and down the corridors of the Mansion, arms folded over her chest and her mind deep in thought. In less than seven hours she and the mutants would embark upon a mission that would, without a shadow of a doubt, change all their lives.

Alex and Sean had surprisingly taken Erik's advice and gone to bed. Hank was still holed up in his laboratory and as far as Elsa knew, Raven was still awake in their bedroom.

Elsa simply couldn't sleep; this was all getting too real. Training had taken the course of a year, but what it was they were training for hadn't really hit home with Elsa until this very moment.

War.

If everything went according to plan, and if everyone cooperated the way Charles said they would, then war would be averted and human-mutant relations would be off to a flying start. If it didn't, every single one of them would have to face a choice tomorrow; a choice between two life paths.

And more than the prospect of dying in battle, this churned Elsa's stomach more.

She continued down the corridor, passing the various paintings strung up on the walls. They loomed over her in the dim light, appearing abstract and out of shape.

Elsa found it funny. Charles owned many pieces of magnificent art, but his taste was not exclusive; his collection ranged from the strangeness of Picasso, all the way to the supreme elegance of Raphael.

She stopped outside Charles' study, fists balled at her sides. The door was ajar, and she could hear quiet chatter inside. She knew that it wasn't right to eavesdrop, but Elsa needed something to take her mind off things.

As quietly as she could, Elsa shuffled over and silently stood beside the door. She pressed her right hand against the wood of the door and tucked her left hand behind her.

She peered through the crack of the door, only just able to catch a glimpse of Charles' beloved mahogany table topped by a frosted crystal chess set. Several pieces had already been moved, and though she did not know much about chess she could see that light was winning.

Somehow, she already knew who that was.

"What started out as a covert mission, tomorrow the world will know mutants exist," declared Erik's voice. Elsa saw a hand move a dark knight, swiftly taking a light pawn.

"Shaw, us; they won't differentiate." Erik continued. "They'll fear us, and that fear will turn to hatred."

Elsa sighed quietly to herself. Erik was, of course, speaking from a point of complete bias but his words held some truth.

She could remember when she and Warren were children, Warren had been terrified of the Mansion's caretaker's rotweiller, Morris. Elsa had not been particularly fond of it either, it was a rather volatile and vicious thing, but she understood his purpose and saw that he filled it well. In many ways, Warren's fear had been irrational for Morris only snapped when he was provoked. Even so, Warren feared the dog with all his might.

And by and by, as time passed, Warren's fear grew. And by the time Warren turned twelve years old, his boyish fear had turned into full-blown hatred. He couldn't tell Elsa _why_ he hated it, only that he had lived in fear of it for such a long time he could feel nothing but hatred.

One day, Morris died. He had been chasing a rabbit through the moors and had tripped up on a bear trap and despite several hours and tiresome efforts, there was nothing that could have been done. It had been ruled as nothing less than a tragic accident.

But deep in her heart, Elsa had always known.

"Not if we stop a war," she heard Charles protest, "Not if we risk our lives doing so."

"Would they do the same for us?" Erik returned quickly.

"We have it in us to be the better men." Charles urged.

"We already _are_. We're the next stage of human evolution, you said so yourself-!"

"No, no."

Elsa heard Erik sigh, and a saw a pair of fingers fiddling with a light bishop.

"Are you really so naieve as to think they won't battle their own extinction?" scoffed Erik, "Or is it arrogance?"

"Excuse me?" There was a hard edge to Charles' voice, one Elsa had come across only when she had been particularly difficult in their sessions; Charles had taken serious offence.

"After tomorrow, they're going to turn on us. But you're blind to it because you think they're all like Moira."

"And you think they're all like Shaw."

A painfull silence followed and the air was so thick with tension that even Elsa felt it. She shuffled in her spot, crossing her arms over her chest. Things had changed over the past couple of months, but Elsa's doubts had always lingered at the back of her mind.

Charles' plan of cohesion, cooperation and, peace had always seemed simple and straightforward, if not a little fanciful. And yet with a few words, Erik had cast incredible doubt.

What guarantee was there, really? Even if nuclear war was to be averted, the apparent exsistence of the mutants would only aggravate the humans. To them, it would appear that a new threat had arisen and it was one that would mean not the destruction of a single nation but the entire human race.

And once the ball got rolling, it would be difficult to overcome.

"Listen to me very carefully, my friend," said Charles gravely. He was leaning forward in his seat, part of his profile visible through the crack. "Killing Shaw will not bring you peace."

There was a brief moment of silence before Erik finally spoke.

"Peace, was never an option."

She heard Charles let out a dry chuckle, before he promptly pushed out of his seat. He disappeared for a moment before he suddenly turned up at the door.

Elsa almost fell back in her surprise. Charles looked straight into her eyes, a small smile dancing on his lips.

"Yes, Elsa?" Despite his outwardly politeness, Elsa could tell he was vexed by her snooping; his mind radiated waves of it.

"Uh...I just…you…" Elsa stammered. She could feel her face heating up, palms sweating. Charles remained at the door expectedly, his finger lightly tapping the wood.

"I'm sorry, Charles," Elsa managed to finally say. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's quite alright, Elsa," interrupted Charles, smiling. "But you should get to bed soon; we've got an early start tomorrow."

Still shaking with embarrassment, Elsa managed a timid 'goodnight' and hurried back to her room. Charles was far less intimidating than Erik by nature, but it didn't mean he couldn't cause discomfort if he wanted to.

Still reeling with embarrassment, Elsa was just about to push open the door to Raven's bedroom when it was suddenly opened for her.

Hank stood in the door way, clutching a curious case in one hand. He seemed unusually flustered, his cheeks inflamed and his lips twisted into a grimace.

"Hank...?"

Hank gently pushed Elsa aside, muttering 'excuse me' as he went, before bounding down the corridor.

Elsa furrowed her brow, her mouth slightly hanging. How were they possibly going to avert nuclear war, if they were at war with one another?

Shaking her head, Elsa pushed open the door.

"Raven?" she called out.

Raven was apparently caught off guard, hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes and cheeks, and quickly tucking an object beneath her robes. She was still visibly upset, unable to look Elsa in the eye.

"There's no point, you know; I'm a telepath remember?" chuckled Elsa, settling upon the seat across from Raven. Without much warning, but with as much gentleness as she could, Elsa opened Raven's mind.

Hank had come in high spirits not ten minutes ago, proudly informing Raven that he had perfected his "cure". Just as he was about to perform the cure on himself, Raven had stopped him. An argument of ideals had followed, culminating in Hank denouncing Raven's natural form.

And here she was, cheeks sodden with tears and eyes reddened. Raven pulled out the syringe from beneath her robes, laying it down on her lap. Elsa couldn't help but stare at the green liquid in it, marveling at just how much change it could bring about.

"What do you think I should do?" Raven asked quietly, eyes fixated on the syringe. She was so uncharacteristically quiet, so frightfully subdued. It made Elsa uneasy.

Elsa's mouth felt dry, and she couldn't keep the pained expression off her face.

Raven looked up, eyes brimming with tears. It was clear she was expecting an answer of some sort, but Elsa had no idea what to say.

"It's not my place to say." Elsa said carefully, shrugging her shoulders. But Raven's face instantly fell, and Elsa felt compelled to continue.

"Raven...if this cure...if it really does work..." Elsa began, "It's a big thing to do."

"Hank's certainly made that point," scoffed Raven, tucking a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.

Elsa sighed, fiddling with her own hair.

"Raven, you need to do this for yourself," said Elsa, leaning forward in her seat, "If you do it for anyone else, you're just destroying who you are."

"All my life, I've just wanted to feel normal," said Raven. She looked up to Elsa, her voice suddenly quiet. "What would your brother have done?"

"Oh, that's different Raven; my brother couldn't shift his apperance."

"But if he was given the chance?"

Elsa hesitated. "He would have taken it."

Raven nodded her head, leaning back into her seat.

"Raven, whatever you do..." Elsa tried, but she was unable to finish her sentence.

She didn't really know what to do. It was all well for her; she had never really had to hide. Like Charles, her mutation had fortunately been discrete. She couldn't really imagine what it must be like for Raven, always so conscious of her true nature. And now to be given a potentially life changing solution...

Elsa smiled. "I just want you to be comfortable in your skin, to be proud of who you are. Blue or not."

"I think I know what Erik would say," scoffed Raven, shaking her head.

"Erik's lived a different life, he forged his own path. You need to forge your own," said Elsa. It was strange for her, saying such things; she had always been on the receiving end.

Raven giggled and the twinkle in her eye returned.

"What?" asked Elsa, half-smiling herself.

"And when the time comes," said Raven, "Do you think you'll be able to take your own advice?"

Elsa was at a loss for words for a moment, before she laughed herself.

"Shut up," she demanded, as she hurled a pillow in Raven's direction.

* * *

><p>It was so frightfully cold, the icy wind blowing in from every direction. He had boarded up his windows and insulated the door as best he could, but still the cold crept in. He didn't really mind himself; he had lived in this apartment for over fifteen years. He had learned to adapt to the harsh extremities of city life, and learned to ignore the freezing winter nights and the sweltering summer days. But things had changed.<p>

Atticus Quire was no longer alone.

He looked across at the little boy, giggling and gurgling to himself as he played with the rattle Atticus had bought him. He had found the baby several months ago, tucked beneath rubble and death at the site of a house fire. It had been the most unusual discovery. Not only had the baby survived, but it had done so because it had been wrapped in some sort of cosmic cocoon.

Atticus had never seen anything like it but he was certainly not one to believe in aliens and extraterrestrial life. As mind-blowing as it was, Atticus was sure there was some sort of explanation for it.

And really, Atticus didn't really care about the baby's origins all that much. No one had claimed him following Atticus' discovery of him. Not an aunt or an uncle, a grandmother or a cousin. And secretly, Atticus was glad.

He had named the boy, Quentin, after his own father. Though he did not have much experience with children, everything seemed to come naturally to him. That, and Quentin was an extremely amiable and biddable child.

Atticus did not know what parents must have looked like, but it seemed that the boy was a wondrous mix of the two. His bright blues sparkled with a certain joy and peace, always lit up with an inner light that could not been broken. They contrasted pleasantly with the tuft of jet black hair upon his perfectly round head .

Quentin looked up, smiling at toothless smile at Atticus. He put down his rattle and stretched out his fat little arms.

"Bubby," he gurgled.

Immediately, Atticus picked up his boy and held him against his chest.

"Yes, that's right," he cooed, gently kissing Quentin's head. Atticus hardly knew the child, he wasn't his and it was fairly obvious that Quentin did not look like him. But still, love poured from pore in his body, and his heart was filled with a warmth he had never really known. was a gift, a gift given to him at a time when he needed it most and every day he was thankful.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello, hello everyone! Been long hasn't it? I know it's been ages, but exams are over now so I've more time on my hands to work on the last couple of chapters! I know this is an atrociously short length given how long I've made you wait, but please forgive me? Let me know what you think! x<strong>


	30. A War With Who?

Chapter 30

-A War With Who?-

By the time day had broken, and the sun had raised high above the soaring oaks, the storm had passed. It had ravaged through the night, sending startling bolts of lightning burning into the ground and drenching the estate with a never-ending rain.

The storm and its destructive force were gone, but its presence still lingered. Trees still flopped miserably from their nights beating, the soil was still heavy with downpour and the after-smell of rain still hung in the air.

It made Elsa nervous.

She had spent the night with Alex, feeling Raven needed a night's solace more than she. Having been tucked beneath Alex's chin, his warmth radiating onto her and his heart beating against her ear it should have provided an ample environment for a good night's rest. All it did, Elsa found, was intensify her fears. She had lost so much this year, her loved ones and indeed herself, and Elsa simply could not bear the idea of losing Alex too.

So much was to happen today, so much that was to determine the course of the lives. Despite Erik's gloom and pessimism, he was right. After today, the humans would either applaud or denounce their existence and somehow, Elsa didn't know which was worse.

Sighing, the tucked the final pin into her hair and swiftly pulled on her leather jacket. Everything was going in slow motion today; even the most menial tasks seemed to take forever.

The door swung open and Alex appeared at its entrance, dressed exactly as Elsa had met him at the beginning of the year.

He strode to her and held her at arm's length.

"You seem nervous." he said, running his finger along her cheek.

"Aren't you?" she asked him.

Alex shrugged. "Whatever happens today happens. It's best just to take it by the horns."

Elsa smiled, clasping his hand within her own. "That's an awfully nonchalant attitude to have."

They strode out of his room, seamlessly joining Sean, Erik, Moira and Charles as the group moved down the corridor to Hank's makeshift laboratory.

"I guess I'm an 'awfully nonchalant' type of guy." Alex laughed, planting a quick kiss on Elsa's cheek before moving up to the front to join Moira and Charles.

Shaking her head, Elsa sighed. Perhaps Alex was right; staying calm and disregarding fear was the right way to go about today.

Elsa felt a tap on her shoulder and spun around.

"Raven!" Elsa exclaimed. She stood in shock for a brief moment, though immediately cracked a grin so wide it stretched from ear to ear. Elsa had seen Raven in her blue form before, numerous times over the year in fact. There was nothing startling about the scaly skin, the electric red hair or the buttery eyes, more so now that she was used it.

But there was something different about her this time, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Raven seemed to be standing taller and her eyes no longer drooped with shame. There was a certain glitter in them Elsa had never seen before; pride.

For the first time this year, and perhaps all of her life, Raven was proud of herself.

Elsa stood back, held Raven by the arm and examined her friend.

"You didn't use it," said Elsa slowly, referring to Hank's serum, "Or at least, I don't think you did."

"No." Raven smiled, "No, I didn't use it."

Elsa squeezed her arm. "You look good."

"Thanks."

Elsa looped her arm through Raven's and pulled her along. "Come on."

They soon caught up to the group, who had stopped outside Hank's lab.

'_Gone to the airbase, bring the crate marked 'X'_.' Read a note stuck to the door, written in scrawly and hurried handwriting.

Charles pulled the note off the door and pushed them open, allowing them to swing out by themselves. The group stood back in shock.

It was as if a tornado had torn through the lab; chairs had been upturned, microscopes had been thrown against walls, and paper lay strewn everywhere. Sean let out a long, pitched whistle, surveying the damage with the same bewilderment as everyone else.

Elsa looked to Raven.

"Did _he_ take it?"

"I don't know," said Raven quietly, shrugging her shoulders as she did.

Erik pushed forward, picking up a shattered syringe. A large gaping hole sat in its centre, its needle bent completely out of shape. Elsa could see a residual neon green liquid still clinging to the broken edges of the tube.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, chucking the syringe back into the mess.

Charles was the first to break from the group, carefully navigating around the rubble until he came to the crate. He had not spoken a word and though it was clear that he was shocked as much as the others, he did not seem distracted by it.

The others followed him, Elsa trailing behind. They stood before the crate, a large 'X' marked on its lid with two long strips of black tape. Charles pulled back the lid, and revealed what appeared to be a set of uniforms. All blue and yellow, they had all been neatly folded and tagged with names.

Elsa had to credit Hank for his skill; not only was he a scientist, but a designer as well. Though she was forced to admit she was not thrilled with the colour scheme.

"Well, Hank has been busy," said Erik, the amusement clear in his voice. Elsa picked up one, tagged 'Raven', and held it up to its full length.

"Do we really have to wear these?" huffed Alex, staring at it disdainfully.

"Well," said Charles, "Since none of us have mutated to endure extreme G-force or being riddled by bullets, I suggest we suit up." Charles began pulling out the uniforms, handing out each to their allocated wearer. Elsa handed Raven's uniform to her, and picked up her own. Raven's uniform had been relatively simple in function, and Elsa had seemingly been given similar consideration. There were no special pockets or attachments like Sean or Alex, or a completely different colour scheme as Moira had been given.

However, upon closer inspection, Elsa found two long slits in the back of her uniform. They ran almost parallel to each other, spanning from the shoulder all the way to the hip.

"I think those are for the front," giggled Sean, pointing at the openings.

"Very funny."

They had all dressed discretely, somehow unashamed around each other. Elsa had blushed on more than one occasion, what with Sean having no apparent sense of personal space.

She plucked at her uniform, fidgeting uncomfortably. It was a bit of a tight fit, but she was relieved to see that the others were having similar difficulties. She watched as the others began to file out of the lab, heading for the jeep that was to take them to the Division's airbase.

Elsa sighed, her heart beating furiously against her chest. She was incredibly nervous and they hadn't even left the Mansion.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

Charles smiled, his blue eyes glittering.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his head titled slightly.

Elsa sighed. "We're about to go to war, and I'm not quite sure who the enemy is."

She wasn't quite sure who she was most afraid of today; the Americans, the Russians, or herself.

Charles smiled, thought it was clear that he too was a little tense.

"We're going to _prevent _a war." He said.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes connecting with her brown ones. "If you control yourself, nothing will go wrong."

* * *

><p>The mutants had arrived at the airbase with relative ease, a good start to the day Charles had noted.<p>

They stood lined up before what Hank had affectionately labelled the "X-Jet". It was yet another magnificent testament to Hank's ability and genius. Elsa had seen and been impressed by its blueprints but seeing it in the flesh was something else. Its streamline design and minimalistic appearance made it the perfect aircraft for a war raging in the shadows.

The only thing, with the exception of nuclear war, which weighed upon their minds now, was Hank's absence.

Silence hung over them, all becoming increasingly worried.

"Where's Hank?" asked Raven finally, looking around the hanger.

"I'm here." A voice called from afar.

It had clearly been Hank's voice, they were all sure of that, but clear that none knew what it was they were looking at.

A figure advanced towards them, large and incredibly bulky with the edges of their figure blurred and fuzzy.

And as they came into the light, it was clear; Hank. Any semblance of the Hank the mutants knew was gone; his skin had turned a bright blue and his mahogany locks had been turned into thick tufts of blue fur. His elegant hands had turned chunky and animal like, with sharp nails jutting out its ends. Bright yellow eyes darted back and forth behind his thick black glasses, the only tie with his old-self.

The group stood stunned, jaws dropped and eyes wide. Elsa wasn't sure what to think.

"It didn't attack the cells. It enhanced them," He announced dismally, his eyes fixated on the floor. "It didn't work."

His announcement had been for the whole group, though it was clear that he was speaking only to Raven.

Raven smiled, shaking her head. "Yes it did, Hank."

Hank shook his head dismissively. Raven squeezed his shoulder.

"Don't you see? _This_ is who you were meant to be." She held his cheek. "No more hiding."

"Never looked better, man," said Erik, playfully punching Hank on the shoulder. It was about the first time Elsa had ever heard Erik pay Hank at compliment, but it was clear to her that he was being sincere.

Hank grunted, taking Erik by the throat with startling speed.

"Don't, mock me." He growled, bearing his tiny jagged teeth. Erik quickly grew pink, clutching Hank's hand with both of his own as he struggled for air.

"Hank!" ordered Charles, "Hank, put him down! Hank. Hank!"

Hank promptly dropped Erik to the floor, the latter sprawling and gasping.

"I wasn't." He rasped, staring up at Hank.

"Even I got to admit you look pretty badass," chuckled Alex, nodding his head approvingly. "I think I've got a new name for you; Beast."

Hank growled in response.

"You sure you can fly this thing?" asked Sean, his head titled up.

"Of course I can," said Hank, "I designed it."

And with that, Hank reached to the belly of the plane, pressing a button which opened up the side doors. The group filled in, with Hank asking Moira to sit up with him in the cockpit. Elsa waited behind Hank, and as she was about to step in Hank turned around and looked her right in the eye.

"I guess you get to say, 'I told you so'."

Elsa had no qualms in regards to flying, hell, she could do it herself. But flying in a plane was a completely different ball game. She felt the same way when she had travelled to America all those months ago.

When flying by herself, she could soar as high or dip as low as she wanted. She could easily react and manoeuvre around obstacles, and if need be she could minimalize damage with relative ease.

Here, Hank was in control and though she trusted him, she couldn't count on the universe.

She was seated beside Alex, a pair of headphones placed around her ears and her body firmly strapped into the seat. Her heart was racing and her breaths were quick and though she did not realise it, she was shaking.

Alex squeezed her hand. "It's gonna be alright."

She looked to him, finding comfort in his smiling face. Elsa nodded, her mouth too dry for words.

"Looks pretty messy out there," muttered Hank over the headphones. Elsa could not see the situation thanks to the high windows, but she could imagine.

The game was relatively simple, though intrinsically complex. An embargo line had been established by the Americans around Cuba and if the Russians were to cross it, everything would be lost.

The Russian cargo ship, the Aral Sea, however, was inching towards the line. Charles quickly touched his temple with his fingers and closed his eyes. A few minutes passed before he opened them again.

"The crew of the Aral Sea are all dead," said Charles, his voice grave. "Shaw's been there."

"He's still here, somewhere," proclaimed Erik.

"He's set the ship on course for the embargo line."

"If that ships cross the line, our boys are gonna blow it up," said Moira, "And the war begins."

"Unless, they're _not _our boys," said Charles. Elsa frowned.

What on earth did he mean?

"The Russians have lost control of their cargo ship, they're ordering not to fire."

"Not if Shaw has anything to do with it."

Charles closed his eyes once more, his fingers pressed firmly against his temple. The mutants heard a deep bang outside, followed by an even deeper whistling noise.

The plane began to whir and whistle frantically, beeping and chirping madly. Hank suddenly lurched the plane to the side, sending everyone forward in their seats.

Elsa held onto the handle beside her head, gritting her teeth so hard she was afraid they might break. Alex instinctively latched an arm over her, his own face bright pink with effort. The plane spun a little more, before Hank was finally able to control it.

He turned in his seat.

"A little warning next time, Professor?" said Hank dryly.

"Sorry about that," Charles apologized. He turned to Sean, who had turned a red as a tomato. "You alright?"

"Yeah." He breathed, slumping back into his seat.

"That was inspired Charles," smiled Moira, shaking her head as she pulled on a few controls.

"Thank you very much, but I still can't locate Shaw."

"He's down there, we need to find him now," demanded Erik.

Elsa looked over, watching his reddened fists furl and unfurl at this sides. Erik was on the edge of his seat and bristling with so much energy, she could almost feel it. Today, not only would he face the man who had robbed him of his faith and innocence, but also risk becoming that man himself.

Elsa and Erik had not spoken since the President's address, and a small part of her was fearful that they would never again have the opportunity.

"Elsa?" Raven's voice cut through, throwing Elsa out of her daze. She blinked several times, only just registering her worried expression. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she said finally, offering her a small smile. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wincing as the jet vibrated violently beneath her. It was an unsettling feeling, but at least it masked the sound of the furious beats of her heart.

"Is there anything unusual on radar or scanners?" Elsa heard Hank ask Moira.

"No, nothing." She replied, watching her screen grimly.

"Well, then, he must be underwater," huffed Hank. "And obviously we don't have sonar."

There was a slight pause, the tension simmering as lips furled in helplessness and brows furrowed in frustration. Stopping Shaw, not searching for him, had been their primary objective today and simply waiting for him to make an eventual appearance would negate everything the mutants had worked for.

Sean suddenly sat up straight, flicking his flame-like hair out of his eyes. He smiled confidently as he freed himself from his seat.

"Yes, we do."

Charles smiled, immediately following. "Yes, we do."

Erik unbuckled himself also, holding on to a rail beside his head. Elsa was relieved that things were finally moving along, but equally nervous for her friend; Erik had more to lose than any one of them here, and if he did not take his chance today there was no telling if he would ever get it again.

"Hank!" yelled Charles, clutching a side rail, "Level the bloody plane!"

Hank promptly obliged, grunting as he brought the jet up. Erik moved forward, only to have Sean stop him in his tracks.

"Whoa!" laughed Sean, holding out his hand in warning. "You back _right_ off!"

Erik held up his hands, nodding his head in compliancy. Sean had relayed the terrifying experience of his first flight to the others on multiple occasions, in which Erik had wickedly shoved him off the edge of a satellite and now it seemed that his story had had some validity.

"Beast, open the bomb bay doors!" Sean called.

There was a sudden rush of crisp air and a splattering salty seawater, as the heavy metal doors began to open. Sean planted his feet firmly at its edge, his chest heaving heavily as he stared down at the rushing sea below.

Charles stood beside him; an arm wrapped firmly around the red-head's wiry shoulders and a hand at his throat.

"Remember, this is a muscle!" reminded Charles, now yelling over the combined forces of the sea and the turbines. "You control it! You'll be in here the entire time! We'll see you soon!" Charles stood back, a pair of fingers pressed against his temple.

"Three, two, one, go!"

With an almighty whoop, Sean stepped off the edge and dropped out of the jet. Elsa could not see much out the side windows, but she could hear the faint whine of his cries.

"Alert the fleet, they might wanna take their cans off." Moira radioed in.

A few anxious minutes passed, before Charles spoke again.

"Banshee's got a location on Shaw," he grinned. He turned to Erik. "Are you ready for this?"

Erik twisted off his gloves, his jaw set and eyes full of determination. "Let's find out."

Carefully, Erik slipped out through the bomb bay doors, and latched onto the leg of the jet's wheel. Charles crouched at the doors, his back faced towards the others.

Elsa sighed heavily. The plan was to literally pull Shaw out of the water, and she hoped against hope he could do it. Erik's anger had, for many years, served as a means of channelling his power and today he had the opportunity to prove he was more than husk of a great man.

Minutes passed, and hot pools of sweat were garnering all over Elsa's body. Even if Erik had lost his footing and had fallen straight into the ocean below, Elsa wouldn't have known because all she could see was Charles' back.

All this unknowing, it made her feel incredibly small.

"He can do it," Alex assured her, squeezing her hand. And just as he spoke, a shadow fell into the jet. She could not see much, but through the small windows she caught a glimpse of long silver metal and giant propellers.

Elsa felt pride soar through her chest.

The jet suddenly lurched and outside a flurry whirling grey winds batted against the windows.

"Erik, take my hand!" Elsa heard Charles yell.

"Oh," Hank grunted over the headphones. "Hold on guys, it's gonna get bumpy."

True to Hank's words, the jet began to rock violently from side to side, tossing any loose equipment and sending it flying across the jet. It began to tumble and spin, causing everyone to latch onto their seats. Elsa heard Raven shriek in terror, Alex was grunting with exertion and she herself letting out tiny pathetic whimpers.

"Erik, _take my hand!_" she heard faintly.

There was an almighty boom as the jet hit land, rolling over and over again, causing the side to split completely. Elsa couldn't stop herself from screaming, as she desperately held onto to Alex's hands.

Charles had managed to pull Erik in, and the latter had thrown himself over the former as the jet continued to tumble.

With an unearthly creak, the jet finally stopped.

Oxygen masks fell from the ceiling, as buttons whirred and beeped, tiny red and green lights blinking furiously.

Elsa groaned, desperately fiddling with her seatbelt as she hung upside down. She finally unlocked herself, pausing a moment to catch her breath. Alex held onto her arms and wordlessly pull her out, immediately clutching her to his chest.

"You ok?" he asked, holding her face in his hands.

"Yes," Elsa gasped. She was admittedly a little winded, but it seemed she had escaped relatively unscathed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Catching her breath, Elsa tried to extend the same concern but was interrupted by Charles' feverish voice.

"I read the teleporter's mind, Shaw drawing all the power out of his sub." He reported. "He's turning himself into some sort of nuclear bomb."

"We've got no time, the Geiger counter's going out of control!" shrieked Moira, frantically glancing back at the crackled controls. They watched as Angel, the red-skinned Azazel and a tall, long haired young man emerged from the submarine.

Elsa's stomach churned. She had knocked around with the others during training, but she had never stopped to consider what it would really be like to battle other mutants.

"Alright Moira, this is what we're gonna do. Get the radio, tell them to clear both sides immediately."

"I'm going in," called Erik, heading out of the broken jet.

"Beast, Havok, and Valkyrie, back him up." Charles demanded. It was the first time Charles had openly referred to her as Valkyrie.

Elsa caught Charles' eye. Her mentor nodded, and with quiet determination, she did so too.

"Erik, I can guide you through once you're in," Charles informed. "But I need you to shut down whatever it is that's blocking me and then we just hope to God it's not too late for me to stop him."

"Got it!"

"Good luck!"

Elsa followed the others out of the jet, standing beside Alex as they faced their enemy. The longhaired mutant Elsa remembered to be named Janos immediately held out his hands, small whirls of wind whipping in his hands. Erik pulled out a section of the sub and knocking out the mutant as it did. Alex released a beam of energy and in quick succession, Azazel disappeared in a haze of red-black smoke and reappeared in milliseconds, taking Hank and Alex with him.

Elsa whirled around, but by the time she did, Angel was gone. But it didn't take her long to return.

Elsa felt a fair of feet digging into her back, sending her sprawling in the sand. She quickly rolled onto her back, just avoiding Angel's fiery balls of spit. Taking all of the pain in her back into her core, Elsa quickly rose to her feet and shot into the air.

Angel smashed into her from the side, her former friend latching unto her arm with an iron grip as the two danced in the air like a macabre puppet play. Elsa extended her talons and dug deep into Angel's leg, ripping past the leather of her boots.

The girl yelped in pain, furiously slapping Elsa around the face. Without much concentration on their flying, the two fell to the ground and tumbled in the sand. With appalling strength, Angel pinned Elsa to the ground, landing a punch to the side of Elsa's face. Elsa groaned, but quickly recomposed herself as she too took a swipe at Angel.

The two girls shrieked and struggled, with Angel almost comfortably straddling Elsa.

"Still think you made the right choice?" Angel huffed, grunting with exertion. As an answer, Elsa swiftly pulled her knees up from under Angel and kicked the girl off. Before Angel had time to react, Elsa lunged for her again. The girls tackled once more, but much to Elsa's despair Angel struggled free from her grip and rose into the air.

In quick succession, Angel sent down her flaming spit, and unlike before, one found its mark upon Elsa's leg.

Elsa shrieked in pain, patting at the flames as they burned through her suit and her skin. She looked down at the wound, already inflamed and peeling. She was thankful for her carbon-fibre bones, but she would have been doubly thankful for carbon fibre skin.

With tears streaming down her face, Elsa looked around her; Angel was gone.

Shrieking with pain, Elsa hauled herself forward through the sand and shuffled toward a stray chunk of the submarine's hatch door. She leant her weight against it, allowing her muscles to relax. Although it provided her some relief, it was clear that the damage was done. Upon closer inspection, the burn looked even worse than it had before. The flesh had turned a bright pink and was flecked with dots of black and brown. Already some of the skin had begun to peel back, and where the damage was minimal the skin gleamed.

Elsa sunk deeper into the sand, clutching its formless form and feeling utterly defeated and helpless. She was not thinking of Alex, Sean, Erik or any of the others, rather her mind was occupied with thoughts of home. Home in the damp moors of Banbury; home in the sweet beds of lavender and lily-pilly in her garden; home within the bright maroon bricks of Worthington Manor.

It was such a far cry from where she was now. Sitting here slumped and injured in the midst of a battle.

Her father had fought as an Allied soldier in the Second World War, and her grandfather had fought as a German in the first. Some way or another, war had infiltrated her life and ran through her veins. And yet, Elsa had never truly anticipated what it might be like to fight in one.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Elsa's eyes began to droop from the pain and humiliation.

With thoughts of her heritage, came with it thoughts of her family. All those who had died to protect her, and those who had died inadvertently. What a shame it would be if it all were to end here. Somehow though, Elsa believed that she would not die here on the shore but only because the prospect of death seemed so unthinkable. All she could do was wait for trouble to come to her, and then hope she could muster up something.

She had spotted Raven standing nearby at the entrance of the jet as she had come down, the shape-shifter wrought with concern. Despite her friend's protests, Elsa had urged Raven telepathically to remain where she was. Elsa couldn't have Raven risking herself, or this mission, for her sake. Too many had done that already, and Elsa wasn't sure she could handle any more blood on her hands.

Elsa was just about to allow her eyes to close, when she spotted something in the distance; a small figure was whirring towards the shore. Pulling herself up, she strained to see what it was and was subsequently overcome with joy as she realised it was Sean. He was pink, flustered and plastered head to toe in seawater, but it was Sean nonetheless. Sean let out a high-pitched cry, only just saving Alex and himself from plunging into the sea. Alex was hanging off the poor boy's arm, seemingly overjoyed by the experience of-

Elsa felt her heart sink. As Sean and Alex drew nearer, she could see that Angel was trailing behind them, getting dangerously close with each passing second.

Her heart was racing, panic rising. Though screaming in pain, Elsa lifted herself onto her knees. There was nothing much she could do, but she promised herself she would do whatever it took and use whatever she had left to protect her friends.

Unceremoniously Alex and Sean crashed into the sand beside her, the latter sprawled like fresh road kill.

Alex threw back his head, catching Elsa's eye as he sunk back into the sand. He grinned from ear to ear, but Elsa was otherwise preoccupied; Angel was hurtling towards them.

"Alex!" squealed Elsa.

Alex quickly flicked round, and within the beat of a heart, sent three bright red rings in Angel's direction. The attack caught the girl completely off-guard and seared her wings. Angel twisted and turned, and with a final cry, she fell to the ground with a painful thud.

Overcome with relief, Elsa shuffled through the sand to Alex. The boy met her half way, pulling her into her into his arms and locking his lips with hers.

"We did it!" He whispered excitedly, resting his forehead against hers.

"Yes, we-hey!" Elsa laughed, touching Alex's chest. "The chest plate's gone!"

"Yeah," smiled Alex, barely able to contain his pride.

"Congr-ow!" Elsa yelped as Alex accidentally clutched her injured leg, the boy quickly retracting. He stared down at it in disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted.

"Jesus." He muttered to himself, staring at the wound in disbelief.

"You're telling me," wheezed Sean, clutching his chest and covered in sticky sand, "You're the only one who managed to injure themselves."

"Can you walk on it?" Alex asked.

"Yeah," Elsa grunted, "Yes. Yes, I think I should be fine."

With Alex's help, Elsa got to her feet.

She clutched her belly, closing her eyes tightly as her head spun with pain. She was sure it was a normal bodily reaction, but she prayed nothing had been damaged too much.

She felt a figure by her other side, and smiled as Raven appeared. Allowing Alex and Hank to hoist up the debilitated Sean, Raven held up Elsa by the waist. Elsa rested her head on her friend's shoulder, feeling increasingly thankful.

They were safe now. Or at least, she, Raven, Alex, Hank and Sean were. Moira and Charles were still inside the remains of the jet, guiding Erik through the sub. And God knows what was going on there.

Elsa wondered if Erik had found Shaw, if he was talking to him now. She wondered if he was feeling the same mix of adrenaline, pain, and anger as she had on the night she had confronted Worthington.

Shaw seemed a far more eloquent character than Worthington despite his obvious shortcomings, and so it would not surprise Elsa if he was trying to pacify Erik right at this moment.

Elsa hoped that he could overcome it, that he would be able to hold his head high and rise above Shaw. But what it meant to rise above, Elsa was unsure.

Suddenly, there was a deep groaning coming from the sub. The mutants could hear the twisting of metal and the crackling of broken connections. They watched as the sub seemed to burst from within itself, its broken ends flattening against the rest of the structure until a gaping hole was left.

Elsa gasped.

Shaw emerged from the sub, intact and still recognizably human, but evidently dead. His arms were raised up from his sides, appearing much like a crucifixion and his lifeless head lolled on his shoulders as a steady stream of thick blood dripped from a wound in his forehead.

Charles and Moira had emerged from the jet, staring at Shaw's body with the same disbelief as the others. Azazel, Angel and Janos stared with horrid expressions, their minds no doubt whirring.

Shaw's body hung in the air as Erik emerged from the sub. When he was ready, he lowered his fist and Shaw was dropped to the ground like a marionette with severed strings. He held both arms out to his sides, floating out of the submarine and onto the beach.

"Today our fighting stops!" He declared, looking out at the other mutants.

He moved forward and it took Elsa a second to realise that Erik was wearing the same helmet Shaw had worn the night he had attacked Division X. Elsa wasn't sure what to think; had Erik become the man he had hunted?

"Take off your blinders, brothers and sisters. The real enemy is out there!" He pointed out at the American and Soviet warships sitting at the horizon. "I feel their guns moving in the water. _Their _metal, targeting _us_!" He walked further down the beach, with Charles mirroring his footsteps.

"Go ahead, Charles," Erik scoffed, "Tell me I'm wrong."

With slight hesitation, Charles pressed his fingers to his temple.

Elsa didn't wait for Charles to prove Erik right. She searched for the Fleet Commander of the American ships, quickly filling with shock and disbelief as she watched through his eyes. They had received new orders from the government, one that had been issued alongside the Russians. They were to fire upon the beach, to destroy the very people who had averted the destruction of their kind.

Elsa couldn't believe it, and neither could Charles. With a clear heaviness in his heart, he looked to Moira. He nodded once, prompting the agent to run back to the jet and hopefully urge the government to call off the attack.

Friendly fire, they would no doubt call it.

They waited in silence, waited for Moira to emerge and declare that it was all just a big mix up. But the moment did not come and before they knew it, the ships had fired.

Elsa could feel her anger bubbling; how could they? After all they had done for them, after all they had risked, this was how they thanked them? It seemed that Erik's prediction and everything thing he had preached before then was right.

_After tomorrow, they're gonna turn on us. _

The missiles hurtled towards them, some carrying a Soviet stamp and others American. But all collectively human.

Elsa clutched Alex's hand and stretched out her wings. If there was any way she could prevent death from taking her friends, she was prepared to do it.

Erik stood at the forefront, seemingly calm and collected. After all, if there was anyone who could stop the missiles somehow, it would be him.

What was he waiting for?

The missiles had all but reached the shore when Erik finally raised his hand. He licked his bottom lip as he held them in the air. They floated precariously, shaking slightly as they did.

Slowly Erik began to turn his hand and as he did, so did the missiles.

"Erik…" Charles began, his fists shaking at his sides. "Erik, you said it so yourself; we're the better men."

The missiles flipped in the air, moving lethargically as they finally faced back. Faced the very men who had deployed them.

"This is the time to prove it."

Erik did not respond, his hand still held up and the missiles waiting accordingly. It was clear that Charles could no longer stop Erik telepathically, and it was clear he was desperate to talk his good friend out of committing mass murder. But despite his hopes and honourable intentions, Elsa knew there was no way the good professor could stop Erik now.

"There are thousands of men on those ships!" Charles protested, his voice uncharacteristically loud. "Good, honest, innocent men! They're just following orders."

With a slight pause, Erik turned his head and looked Charles right in the eye.

"I've been at the mercy of men 'just following orders'," he said gravely. "Never again."

And with that, the missiles began to hurtle back.

"Erik, release them!" Charles shrieked.

Erik paid no heed, his glare fixed and his arm held strong.

Elsa didn't know what to think. She had been brimming with anger, but she wasn't quite sure if this was the way to go. She had believed that killing Lewis would bring her peace and self-gratification and all it had brought her was guilt.

They watched as the missiles edged closer and closer to the ships, any impact imminent.

"NO!"

Charles launched himself through the air, flinging himself onto Erik. The two fell to the ground with a thud, the attack breaking Erik's concentration. A few missiles exploded, whilst most began to speed towards the ocean.

The two wrestled on the ground, twisting and turning and struggling against the other. As one brother struck the other, the bonds they shared shattered and exploded, mirroring the missiles above.

"I don't want to hurt you, don't make me!" demanded Erik, wrenching himself out of Charles grip and hauling himself back onto his feet. He raised hand and the missiles were on track once more.

Out of the corner of her eye, Elsa saw a figure move.

Moira rushed forward, pulled out her gun and began firing at Erik. Erik quickly turned his attention to her, allowing the missiles to fall away as he deflected the bullets.

Moira edged closer and as she did, the bullets flew out in crazed and various directions.

And suddenly, it seemed as if time had slowed down.

Charles, in between the time Moira had pulled out her gun and begun firing, had risen to his feet. And now he was falling back down again, screaming in agony and clutching his back. He fell to the ground, face crashing into the sand and arms splayed out before him.

Moira stopped her firing and Erik immediately ran to Charles, turning him over as he pulled out the crumpled bullet.

Elsa no longer felt pain in her leg and even if there was, it was masked by her shock. The boys stared wide eyed and Raven clasped her hands over her mouth.

Erik pulled Charles into his lap, holding him with such a tenderness Elsa had never seen before. His face wrought with anger, Erik slowly looked up at Moira.

"You," he growled, "You did this."

He held out his arm and clenched his fist, causing Moira's dog-tag to wrap tightly around her throat. The poor woman clutched at her neck desperately, letting out strained breaths as she struggled against Erik's iron will.

"She didn't do this, Erik," said Charles quietly, tears running down his face. "You did."

Erik looked down, releasing Moira immediately.

"This is what they want; us turning on each other," said Erik, holding Charles close. "I want you by my side, we're brothers you and I. All of us, protecting each other. I tried to warn you, Charles."

He smiled. "We want the same thing."

Charles chuckled quietly, a large tear slowly running down to his ear. "Oh, my friend, I'm sorry. But we do not."

Erik's face fell, his lips tightly pursed. He took in a few long breaths, staring at Charles as he did. He sniffed, looked up and began to pull away, allowing Moira to take his place.

"Charles!" cried Moria breathlessly, holding him up in her arms. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"It's alright."

Erik stood tall, his shoulders thrown back and his set firmly upon the other mutants. His palms were open, and there was a certain air about him that Elsa couldn't quite put her finger on.

"This society won't accept us. We form our own," said Erik. He pointed out at the fading warships. "The humans have played their hand, now we get ready to play ours. Who's with me?"

Elsa's stomach lurched. Her mind was running at a million miles per hour, her heart slowly increasing in rhythm. She knew things would come to a head today, but she had never anticipated this.

Every moment from this year flashed before her. From the moment she had landed in New York in supposed safety, to the moment she had met her new mutant friends; from the moment her uncle and aunt had been murdered, to the moment Alex had declared his love for her.

All her life, she had been taught to be a good person. To be capable of love and forgiveness, kindness and empathy. But what more could she take? She had been proven time and time again the unpredictable and wicked nature of the humans, and just for the sake of a clear conscious was to disregard all that had happened to her loved ones?

Elsa shuffled forward a little, as if her body was acting on its own accord.

'_Oh, God.'_

Elsa frowned, felt a tightening upon her hand.

She looked down and saw Alex's hand gripping her's so hard that his knuckles were white. He was staring straight ahead, his lips locked in a tight line.

Elsa felt a hard lump forming in her throat. "Alex…"

"No." He whispered, still refusing to look at her. "No."

"No more hiding." She heard Erik say, distantly.

Alex finally faced her, his face pink and his voice wavering.

"Please…" he begged.

And as she looked into his bright blue eyes, Elsa saw all that had pulled her through this year. She saw the heartache and the confusion, but more importantly she saw within him the strength which had kept her from collapsing, the love which had kept her from breaking.

She smiled and kissed his cheek, soddening it with her tears.

She looked back at Erik, catching his eye. They held the other's gaze, each hoping the other would change their mind.

He did not say a word, but his expression spoke volumes. He wanted her there with him, and part of her wanted to.

Elsa let out a tiny sob. She wanted so much to pull him back to her, to beg him not to leave and stay by _her_ side. And it seemed he wanted to do the same.

She loved Erik, that was true, but she could not bear the idea of a life without Alex.

Raven was standing beside him, as were Angel, Azazel and Janos. Raven was hard to read, but it was clear she was disappointed too. Elsa couldn't believe she was losing her too.

'_Raven?'_ She asked, _'You'll make him understand, won't you?'_

'_I'm not sure_ I _understand_.'

Despite everything, Elsa smiled though it was not returned. There was so much more she wanted to say. This could well be their last meeting and Elsa was distraught at the idea of parting on such terms.

As the sun set over the horizon, Erik and his mutants clasped hands and before she could say anything, in a cloud of red and black smoke, her greatest friends were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Oh. My. God.<strong>

**I think it's perfectly fine if you all decide to gang up and hurl rotten tomatoes at me, because the wait I put you though is inexcusable! (actually I do have a few excuses). Final year did not turn out nearly as I had hoped and I've spent a few months in a strange rutt. Honestly, I was not in the right mood to write but I think that'll change. I'm so sorry!**

**But on a positive note, sort of, we're one step off from the end! Many thanks to those who favourited, alerted and reviewed during my absence! You really did give me the motivation to keep going!**


	31. The End

Chapter 31

_3 Months Later_

-The End-

* * *

><p><em>'And your very flesh shall be a great poem.'-<em>Walt Whitman

* * *

><p>A young woman leaned against the back of a wooden love seat, clutching a steaming cup of coffee in her hand as she looked out over her home. No one but she was present; she had woken particularly early, eager to watch the sunrise. Her lone shadow cast out in a long dark line over the green fields.<p>

Nothing seemed amiss; the trees rustled gently, the birds twittered peacefully, and the sunlight blazed across the horizon, hurtling brilliant shards of orange and magenta across the morning sky. The sweet scent of spring dew and pine hung in the air, the seeds of dandelions gently tumbled through the air, and all the while drifting with it the hopes and dreams for the New Year.

She sighed contently, allowing this natural peace to enter and lavish her soul.

Despite her best efforts and however, painful it was, she was reminded of a different place. Of a different time, a different world in which she had lived in for so very long. That was all but a distant memory now, nothing more or less than a series of events which had helped form her into the person she was today. She still thought often of that place, of those she had lost and left behind. But she continually reminded herself that life had steered itself unto a different path, and that the winds of change had brought her here for a reason.

In the distance, she heard the crunch of gravel beneath feet. She turned and smiled at the figure striding towards her, still clad in his pyjamas with a furry robe draped over him.

He smiled; his blonde hair was still mused and stuck out in odd places, but with a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Good morning," Alex greeted, planting a small kiss on Elsa's forehead. He settled himself beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Good morning," Elsa returned, resting her head against the inside of his shoulder.

"You're up early," He mused, sipping on his own coffee.

"Thought I'd watch the sun rise," said Elsa, bringing her knees up to her chest. "Get my mind in the right head space."

"So you're nervous then?" Alex chuckled. Elsa sat up, shrugging her shoulders as she did.

"A little," she admitted. "I've never had to... 'teach' anyone before."

Following the events at the beach, Charles had returned a changed man. Not only physically, for now he had to be wheeled around his home, but mentally too. The overtly confident, enthusiastic and optimistic young doctor had turned into a reserved and quiet professor. His faith in kindness and peace had not completely broken, but he had learnt to proceed with caution, and only quiet assurance.

Convinced that the change society needed rested in the young, Charles set about establishing his own school. Mutant and human relations had taken a turn for the worse following the Cuban Missile Crisis, and so Xavier guised his institution as a highly selective and very exclusive prepratory school for highly intelligent children.

He had assisted Hank McCoy in reconstructing the young scientist's "Cerebro" machine and had since found hundreds of desolate young mutants to nurture and foster. He had allocated various teaching roles to the remaining X-Men; Hank was to handle mathematics and the sciences, Alex was in charge of physical education and development, Sean had been handed the rather difficult task of power control and harnessing, whilst Charles himself would teach the social sciences with special attention to mutant involvement and influence.

And despite her apprehension, Elsa had been delighted to be allocated to English; she had loved English when she had attended school. Elsa could not wait to engross her students in the likes of Bronte, Orwell, Shakespeare and Whitman, and to parallel major themes to that of everyday mutant struggles.

But the prospect of playing teacher daunted her, especially since some of her students were, apparently, only a few years younger than herself.

"Do you think this'll work?" asked Alex, brow furrowed. Alex had been openly enthusiastic about the school, eager to pass on his knowledge to younger mutants and to dedicate himself to a worthy project. But like anyone else, he too felt doubt and uneasiness. So much had changed and so dramatically; it was easy to always assume the worst.

"Yes," said Elsa, after a brief pause. "Charles will make sure of it. And these kids, they need this."

'I_ need this,'_ Elsa thought sorrowfully.

Alex shifted, sniffed and then cleared this throat.

"Do you ever think about them?" He asked quietly. Elsa looked to him, and he was prompted by her blank expression.

"About Raven or Erik?"

Elsa brought her feet to the ground, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Sometimes."

Elsa thought of her long-gone friends more than she cared to admit. She wondered where they were, what they were doing, what they were _plotting_. They would always be friends; Elsa would always care for and love them as she would her own family. But that day on the beach had divided them in such a finite way.

And not a day went by in which Angel's reproachful question spun in her head; _"Still think you made the right choice?" _

No one ever asked her, but she knew they had thought it; had she stayed out of her conviction, or out of her love for Alex?

What Erik stood for, all that he believed in, all that had come from his suffering, Elsa understood. At times, she believed in it. She had seen first hand the brutal and hateful nature of Mankind, she had suffered at its expense and she had watched others go through the same.

She had achieved redemption, she had exacted her vengeance but it never filled the hole in her heart or eleveated the darkness in her soul. She had killed Lewis Worthington, a deranged and callous man who had killed so many others, and yet she had not felt peace.

How could she? Her hands were forever stained and there was nothing she could do to rid herself of it.

If she were to meet him again, Elsa could never tell Warren what had happened and so she could never ask him for it. She had stayed partly for Alex, but partly out of her own need for forgiveness.

And so she hoped against hope that this would redeem her. That if she could stop even one young mutant from descending the path of self-destruction as she had, that she would be forgiven.

Curling up against Alex, Elsa stared out at the estate. She didn't know what life had in store for her, in this year or the next ten. All Elsa knew was there was promise; promise of a new life, with new people, in a new world.

And that she would never look back.


	32. Author's Final Note

**And there we are. After a lengthy year and a half, I'm done.**

**It was a difficult year, full of horrendous downs and ok highs and I hope never to go through that again. But I still managed to pull through for 'Never Again' and for that I am so glad.**

**Thank you so much to the 99 alerts, 71 favourites and all the others who have supported this story. Thank you for having faith in this, even when I didn't.**

**Your reviews spurred me on to continue, to develop and bring these characters to life; I honestly cannot thank you enough. If I could give you all a hug, I would.**

**Now I'll be onto to severe editing, no changes to plot, but some major tidying up. Hopefully, I'll be able to bring it up from the strange ramblings of a then seventeen year old to something worthy of your reading!**

**I'll be starting uni in about 2 weeks, and I cannot wait for the new year ahead. I'm excited to push this story further, to bring back everyone you've come to know and to hurtle some twists into your face! (how poetic) **

**And for X-Men; Days of Future Past. I do have a sequel in head, and have a plotline going for that, with a chapter or two already written. But I will wait a bit to see how the film will go so I can adequately weave the film into the story.**

**But do not fret! Elsa, the X-Men, Warren, Cynthia and Quentin will return and life will spin in crazy directions for all of them!**

**So keep a weather eye on the horizon, and I'll see you all again soon.**

**Love,**

**Smizzlemort**


	33. Final Notice

**Hi all!**

**This is just a notice to say that I've just released the first chapter of the sequel! You may have noticed that I've also changed the name of this story. It's not a huge change, but it will allow better flow between the stories (as opposed to 'Never Again: 2)**

**Thank you!**


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